No More a Savage Life: Chapter One
by lovinghannibal
Summary: Immediately follows the events of the movie Hannibal. Clarice is accused of having a relationship with Hannibal and aiding his escape. Haunted by the events of their last meeting, both must come to terms with their feelings. He is certain, but will she see through the bars of his plight and ache for him? Rated M for graphic descriptions & sexual situations.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's note:**

**No More a Savage Life is the first installment of a trilogy. Enjoy the fic, and please consider reviewing either as you read, or when you've finished. Quite a lot of work goes into presenting a satisfactory story: lots of research and time considering plot and developing original characters with enough backstory to blend successfully with canon. It's helpful to hear what readers think as they move through the chapters as the information often provides invaluable assistance/inspiration to the writer. Thanks so much for reading- Enjoy the ride!**

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><p><strong>STANDARD DISCLAIMER:<strong>

**The characters contained herein are not my property. They are the brilliant and inspired creation of the author, Thomas Harris. The following scenarios and exchanges are written to enjoy and honor his creation of these characters with respect and admiration. I do not own the characters, only the plot line, dialogue not attributable to Harris, and my own original characters.**

**No More a Savage Life:Chapter One**

Clarice Starling was beyond incredulous when Clint Pearsall informed her that Director Noonan was reviewing her statements and was strongly suggesting the physician complete her examination with a rape kit.

_Strongly suggesting? What the hell! They can't force that on me, especially while i'm on suspension. It's not like they can threaten me or anything._

She tugged at the dress, trying to pull the halter tighter around her neck in an effort to make the deeply plunging neckline less revealing.

_How dare he suggest… How dare he assume. Who the hell does he think he is? I'm not doing it! I'm not and they can't make me!_

Her mind swirling, now feeling even more exposed than she felt in and out of consciousness while Doctor Lecter tended her injuries, Clarice defended as calmly as, under the circumstances, she was able.

"That isn't necessary, Sir. Believe me, he _wouldn't_! I mean he _didn'_t! I_ know_ he didn't."

At this point, Pearsall was so disgruntled to have to be dealing with this situation he didn't even bother to make eye contact with her. He was attending to a series of text messages, blatantly ignoring her plaintive protests.

"Agent Starling by your own account you were medicated heavily and not conscious for the majority of this experience. Is that a fair account of your statement thus far?"

_This isn't happening...oh, god this cannot happen. No matter how much I object he's sure as hell not gonna listen. How do I stop this without raising suspicion?_

"Yes, Sir, _but.._."

Continually attending his cell phone, Pearsall showed absolutely no concern for what Clarice might or not have been going through. He was obviously preoccupied by Hannibal's escape and having to deal with Clarice's possible participation was seen by the man as nothing short of a major inconvenience. He believed with his years of experience he should be in the field looking for Lecter, not playing wet nurse to a disgraced agent with a schoolgirl crush on a madman.

Obviously exasperated, he interrupted, "And is the evening gown you are currently wearing the _ensemble_ you wore to the Verger Estate? Expecting dinner perhaps?"

Clarice was incensed at the Deputy Director's sarcastic suggestion.

_You condescending sonofabitch who the hell do you think you are?_

Holding her tongue as best she could though not being particularly successful, all she could manage to filter through her gritted teeth was, "Don't be ridiculous. That suggestion is so ignorant it's practically obscene."

Still staring at his cell phone, Pearsall continued his salacious line of questioning.

"Obscene? You're kidding me right, Starling? No more obscene than the fact that you're unconcerned about being naked in front of a serial killer. If you didn't wear that ridiculous outfit to work, then it's obvious the crazy bastard stripped you and dressed you up like Prostitute Barbie for what? His own amusement? You think you might want to determine how he amused himself with you while you were sleeping. You think you'd want to know. Hell, if the nut job raped you, you might want to take a morning after pill. You wouldn't want to wake up in nine months having to shit out the maroon-eyed-eleven-fingered-freak-of-nature-bastard child of Hannibal the Cannibal, would you? If he didn't want o have sex with you, why would he remove _all_ your clothing?"

_Shit out a child? And he thinks Lecter is a freak of nature? Could this man be a bigger asshole if he tried? _

Doing her level best to remove all emotion from her tone, even though she wanted nothing more than to stab the man in his heart, Clarice spoke her belief as dispassionately as possible.

"He removed my clothing in order to perform the _surgery_ necessary _to save my life, Sir._"

The_ 'Sir'_ sounded more like a big _'fuck you'_, but Pearsall was too wrapped up in his own self-aggrandisement to notice.

Taking his eyes off his phone just long enough to be obnoxious, Pearsall's gaze began at her eyes and skimmed over her form, resting long enough at her breasts to cause Clarice to shudder as she struggled to repress her anger. She shifted uncomfortably on the examination table as he looked her up and down, his eyes and his voice electrified with insinuation and innuendo as he spoke.

"It is obvious by the cut of that dress that he removed at least some of your undergarments and that he had access to your person while you were incapable of resisting and unaware of your surroundings. With that in mind it would be prudent to process a rape kit."

_Yeah, not happening, Big Guy!_

Clarice stuck to her guns, not budging an inch as she pressed her point.

"I was asked to, and allowed the physicians to examine the site where Doctor Lecter performed the surgery. It is my right to withhold my permission for any additional examinations. I am informing you now, that that is my intention. I categorically refuse to submit to any gynecological examinations, nor will I allow a rape kit to be processed as I was not raped."

Ardelia entered the room and immediately took her place by Clarice's side. With Pearsall within earshot, she didn't dare speak her mind.

Suddenly Pearsall's cell phone began to hum. He checked the caller i.d., grumbled when he saw the name, now forced to withdraw from the examination room in order to take the call that was obviously of import and probably regarding Clarice.

Ardelia nudged her friend's shoulder with her own, leaning against her to add physical, as well as emotional support.

"Hey girl, are you okay?"

Absolutely panicked, Clarice didn't feel the need to hide the circumstances from Ardelia.

"No, Dee, _I'm mortified._ They want to take a rape kit."

Not yet picking up on why that might be a problem for Clarice, Ardelia supported the concept of further testing.

"So? That sounds like a really practical idea. I mean...it would be better to know than not."

The quizzical look confirmed that Clarice had no idea to what Ardelia was referring.

"Better to know what?"

Her voice almost reverent in an attempt to soothe her friend, barely lifting above a whisper, Ardelia explained, "To find out whether or not he took… _liberties._"

Irritated that Ardelia, didn't seem to understand her concerns when, as her best friend, she definitely should have Clarice asserted sarcastically, "What he _took_ was a _bullet_ out of my _body,_ Dee."

Absolutely unconvinced and utterly clueless, Ardelia returned, "C'mon Clarice you give him too much credit. I know you have this weird connection to the man, not that I'll ever be able to understand it, but what's _really_ behind all this stubborn certainty?"

Clarice shifted uncomfortably on the examination table. She was anxious and uneasy, her physical discomfort matching her emotional unease. Her legs were dangling as she wasn't quite tall enough for her feet to reach the step-stool provided. Not with bare feet anyway; she had removed the shoes Hannibal purchased. Tucking her hands under her thighs, she pulled her legs together as best she could.

_How can I make her understand without this sounding ridiculous? Hell, it is ridiculous. I was naked in front of the man and still I'm convinced he acted appropriately. That takes faith to a whole new level. I must be as crazy as he is._

"It may sound unbelievable, but he would consider that rude and common and Dr. Lecter is neither. Leave his feelings for me aside. He has too much respect for _himself_ for that."

_Leave his feelings for me aside? Why the hell did I say that? She'll never miss that...Shit!_

Ardelia raised a hand, signaling to Clarice that she would check on Pearsall. She left her friend's side and poked her head just outside the doorway. Seeing Pearsall turned from the room Ardelia began to pace in the doorway, making sure the Deputy Director couldn't overhear the conversation.

Ardelia spoke softly, consistently checking the hall to warn of his inevitable return.

"For someone who was unconscious for most of it, you seem uncommonly certain."

Playing nervously with the hem of the elegant dress, Clarice asserted, "I _am_ certain."

Ardelia, moving very slowly so as not to risk detection, closed the door to the examination room even as she urged Clarice to reconsider.

"_Why are you so against this?_ If there was no sexual misconduct, no harm, no foul. It's not as if Lecter will ever find out, and what the hell did you mean by, 'leave his feelings for you aside?' _What feelings_?"

_Crap! I knew she'd pick up on that. What the hell's wrong with me? The morphine must have melted my freaking brain!_

"It isn't about Lecter. _It's about me_. I wasn't raped, Dee. You _know_ I'd know."

Ardelia stood at the foot of the examination table, her eyes shifting, focusing on nothing in particular as she processed Clarice's last statement. Suddenly, as if a shade lifted and the room was flooded with light, Ardelia had a revelatory moment. She rushed to her friend's side and placed an apologetic hand on Clarice's shoulder.

"Ohhh,_ I get it!_ Sorry Clarice, sometimes I'm not too quick on the uptake. Shit, I didn't even _think_ of that!"

Burying her face in her hands she worried, "Now you know why I don't want an exam, Dee. Can you freaking blame me?"

Rubbing her friend's back though she knew it was poor comfort, Ardelia consoled, "What are you so freaked out about? It isn't as if you are the _only_ virgin in the free world."

Crossing her arms, not in defiance but more in a gesture of modesty Clarice asserted, "It's Washington, Dee. Eliminating school aged kids, I very well might be so I'd prefer this not get out. I mean it's no one's business and I just don't want them to have any more ammo to aim in my direction."

Ardelia felt the need to play devil's advocate.

"Don't get pissed at me or anything, but I've got to ask...Who are you trying to protect, yourself or him?"

The hospital was loud and smelled like a mixture of industrial cleaner and the unpalatable and as such uneaten trays of Salisbury steak being collected in the hallway. Her senses were overwhelmed causing her to shake head as if the action might clear her mind.

Unable to focus clearly, Clarice muttered, "I don't know anymore…I only know that he wouldn't rape me."

"Clarice, he murders people then he cooks and eats their body parts. Why do you believe that rape is far beneath his standards?"

Slapping her palms in frustration on the paper lining on which she was seated, Clarice's voice was edged with anger.

"You probably won't believe this and it may seem to be a contradiction but he is one of the most principled people I have ever met. He just doesn't feel bound by our societal norms. Based on the moral code he has constructed I am absolutely certain he would never hurt me and I'm even more certain he wouldn't rape me."

Ardelia wasn't convinced. She smoothed the fabric of the dress spilling across the examination table in order to draw Clarice's attention to it.

"I don't know, Clarice. The shoes, the dress…he dressed you up as if he were taking you on a date. Maybe you were just asleep for that part. Why else would he put you in this type of clothing? It's really...sexy."

_He said he loved the dress...he said it was beautiful..._

"I assume this is Dr. Lecter's idea of appropriate dinner wear."

"Well, it's obvious he has great taste and it's even more obvious that he is attracted to you."

Clarice turned to her friend. She wanted to share her thoughts, but only her friend could hear this.

She whispered,"Ardelia…It's more than that…I think he's in love with me."

Incredulous, Ardelia challenged, "What? What did he say to you?"

Turning away, Clarice spoke in hushed tones, her voice trailed off as she explained.

"It's not what he said…it's what he did...He...he..."

She couldn't make herself say it. Not in this dress, in this place with that sonofabitch Pearsall on the other side of the door.

Knowing that Clarice was not a timid person, her friend's inability to explain what had happened to her panicked Ardelia.

"Jesus, Clarice! What the hell did that bastard do to you?"

Clarice laced her fingers and braced them around her neck. She curled up, leaning forward and rocking herself.

"I can't talk about this here. I've got to get some distance—this can't be overheard…by anyone."

"Alright I'll get you some scrubs. You can't waltz out of her in that cocktail dress; you'll stick out like a sore thumb. We can put our heads together and figure this out at home."

Clarice and Ardelia arrive at their duplex while Pearsall was still pacing around the hospital on his cell phone arguing with senior members of the Justice Department as of yet unaware of the pair's departure. When he finally entered the examination room with a doctor to insist on the rape kit, he realized, much to his rage, that Clarice had indeed left the building.

**Until the next chapter, my friends!**

**LH**


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's note:**

This is the original story- No More a Savage Life. I'm not making changes to the canon of the fic, I'm simply attempting to meet the criteria of the new M ratings. There are additional descriptions and dialogue, but the spirit of the fic is unaltered.

**Devil's Advocate**

Within minutes Ardelia had Clarice spirited away from the hospital and back into their shared duplex. They headed for the kitchen and entered, locking the door and checking the windows as if it were some sort of bunker in which Clarice could find protection from the assaults of the day. She wasn't worried about any assault by Lecter; she knew he would never hurt her. No the assault was strictly an FBI undertaking. The personal attacks and slanderous innuendo scarred her, the attacks so intrusive she knew she would never fully recover. This experience was cathartic. Clarice knew she was changed.

"So, what was so private that you couldn't tell me in a hospital room even though we were totally alone. It wasn't as if Pearsall could hear us from the hallway, dense as he is, with his cell phone glued to his ear!"

Clarice paced around the kitchen like an animal in a cage, arms crossed, chewing on the side of her thumb. The trembling in her typically authoritative voice an obvious affectation of her agitation as she wheeled around and faced Ardelia, anxious. The words were difficult. The concept almost unimaginable.

"You have to _promise_ not to speak a word about this until I can figure out what my next move will be."

Without thought or understating the importance, Ardelia spoke, "I promise."

Realizing her friend didn't understand the import, Clarice stressed, "I really mean it Dee, you are not an agent right now. You're my best friend and I really need your help but you have to take this promise really seriously! Not a word of this to anyone…not now…_not ever_… "

Ardelia, still teasing slightly, raised her right hand in the air as if taking an oath.

"You have my word that right now, Clarice. I'm not an agent I'm your friend. I won't say a thing to Pearsall or anyone else at the F.B.I. I'll leave that decision up to you."

Approaching her friend, Clarice reached up and clasped Ardelia's raised hand, holding it tightly. Her tone was low, serious.

"…Even if I am withholding information?"

Ardelia stiffened slightly. Her friend was serious. What could possibly be this important?

"Clarice, even if you have Hannibal Lecter upstairs hiding under your bed."

Dropping her friend's hand, she turned her back and leaned heavily on the breakfast counter.

"Dee, you have no idea how close to the truth you are right now."

Standing across from Clarice, Ardelia's eyes widened. She knew it had to do with Lecter. Clarice had been losing sleep over the investigation, and she seemed so conflicted when they spoke about the case. Preparing to hear that Clarice had covered up some evidence, or worse yet, let the man go, Ardelia Mapp, friend, not agent, spoke plainly.

"Hell, if it's gonna be like that you'd better get us a drink. I don't think I can handle a conversation like _that_ straight up sober!"

Clarice walked across the room, grabbed a bottle of whisky from the shelf and two glasses. She set them in front of Ardelia and sat across the table from her now extremely attentive friend.

Ardelia opened the bottle and overfilled the glasses. They both tossed the whiskey back, each gulping hard and wincing simultaneously as they set the glasses down.

"So, we're talking about Lecter, huh?" Ardelia queried, watching her friend with an investigative eye.

Pushing the shot glass toward Ardelia, Clarice nodded.

"Yeah, Dee…we're talking about Lecter."

"Before you tell me what I'm sure is a crazy-ass story, I'm gonna need another."

Clarice nodded, "Yeah…me too."

Ardelia refilled them.

Clarice picked up the drink and absentmindedly rolled the shot glass between her thumb and middle finger, watching the liquid slide around, coating the glass as she spoke.

Seeing Clarice's struggle, Ardelia tried to make the process easier.

"So, did you let him go? He did save your life. I'd understand, Clarice. I swear I wouldn't tell."

"No, it wasn't like that…I tried to keep him with me. I could hear the sirens. I thought…maybe if I could hang on to him just a little while longer."

Although Clarice was sitting directly across from her and was in obviously good health, Ardelia worried aloud, "Oh my god, what the hell did you use to try and stop him? Did you have your gun?"

"No, you saw the dress, there would be no where to hide it. I was able to slip my hand cuffs over one of my wrists and when he was distracted I was able to capture his left hand with the other."

It wasn't what Ardelia expected to hear. "You've got to be kidding me! How pissed was he?"

Her hand in a fist, Clarice rested her forehead against the knuckles leaning hard on the arm for support. Her eyes were almost otherworldly, speaking quietly as she processed the event.

"At first I think he was a little amused. When he asked for the key and I refused, his demeanor changed."

Hanging on every word, Ardelia resumed, "Angry, was he?"

"Yeah, he was. It was that quiet, scary kind of anger... especially when he asked for the key a second time."

"How terrified were you?"

Sitting up straight as a board, Clarice was in the moment. She could feel his anger and see the burning in his eyes as she remembered, "I thought he would rip my throat out with his teeth and search my dead body for the key, he was that desperate to escape, but still…he seemed so calm."

Ardelia leaned across the table, closing the distance between.

"Wow…wow…so, what happened next?"

"So, with the squad cars raging up the road, and Christ knows how many helicopters circling above he reached for the meat cleaver and slammed our hands together on the butcher block. He touched the cleaver to my hand and… and asked me…"

She lifted the glass and gulped down the alcohol, as if needing the liquid courage to continue.

"…_Above or below the wrist, Clarice?_' then he lifted it over his head he looked at me and said _'this is really gonna hurt!'_"

Ardelia was spellbound. "Sweet Jesus, you must have been terrified!"

"Not until the cleaver cut into the butcher block. When I dropped to my knees and realized that our hands were now separated…I screamed…I was so afraid to look down. I wasn't expecting pain…I was on too much morphine, but I was sure my hand was gone."

"So he missed his mark? How did he get out of the cuffs without making the cut? A butcher's cleaver could never get through your cuffs, especially not on one pass."

"He didn't remove the cuffs without making the cut." She buried her face in her hands. She was clearly in shock, overwhelmed.

"What?"

Lifting her head, Clarice stared off in the distance. She could hear the sounds, the crunch as the blade passed through flesh and bone. She felt the slippery crimson fluid spraying her arm as their hands parted, shining as it fountained from the wound.

"Christ, I can still hear the crack the blade made as it passed through the bones and the blood...so much blood."

Ardelia was confused by the explanation. She quickly surveyed Clarice's arms. He couldn't have cut her. She was intact, fully.

"_What bones?_ I'm not following you."

Looking up, she clarified, "Dee, he hacked off his hand… his own hand _instead_ of mine."

Had she been aware of it, Ardelia might have closed her mouth, her jaw slack with incredulity.

"_What?_ Why? Why would he do that? He'd be leaving a freaking DNA trail. Even if he could avoid dripping blood, with a wound that severe, Doctor or not, he'd still need medical attention. Hell, he can't go to a hospital. Clarice, he's probably bled to death by now. It doesn't make any sense. Why?"

Burying her hands in her palms, she mumbled, "I don't know, Dee…I don't."

The pair sat for a moment in silence, processing the event. Clarice folded her arms on the table and rested her head. Ardelia spoke first.

"Wow, I don't blame you for not reporting that to Pearsall. They already think you helped Lecter at the Verger Estate. Do you know what they would assume if they knew he did that?"

Her head still resting on the pillow her arms created, she closed her eyes, elucidating, "That we are linked in some way. That I was complicit in his escape, maybe both of his escapes…who knows…maybe on some level, in some way, subconsciously, I was."

Ardelia reached across the table and rested her hand on her friend's forearm.

"What is it with you two? I mean you always told me he would never hurt you; I just didn't believe you."

Clarice lifted her head.

_What __**is**__ it with us? I don't know…or maybe I do, and I don't want to face it._

"I always believed that he would prefer not to but I never imagined it was something he was incapable of, especially with his own life at stake. I mean, he was backed against the wall as far as anyone can be and still, at that moment, all but captured knowing they would either kill him outright or drag him back to some dungeon and throw away the key…even then he wouldn't or couldn't hurt me."

Ardelia began to play devil's advocate. She wasn't judgmental or in any way disturbed, she was simply trying to understand the circumstances.

"Why cut off the hand and not just the thumb?"

Pushing back from the table, Clarice lifted her head and sat back. She thought about it for a moment. Why not the thumb?

"He would know that he had a better chance of maintaining full movement if the cut was to the arm. He is a surgeon, an artist, and a pianist. His hands are everything to him. Of all things he might chance losing he couldn't afford to lose the thumb. He must have been so desperate, trying to come up with an alternative."

"Okay, I get all of that, but what I don't understand is, how the hell did you get the cuffs on him. It's not like he's an easy man to trick. What the hell did you do to distract him?"

The conversation took the turn Clarice was dreading.

"I didn't have to do anything…he kind of…distracted himself."

"What? That doesn't make any sense! That man doesn't miss a trick. This is a story I gotta hear."

"He said to me, _tell me Clarice…would you ever say to me stop…if you loved me you'd stop?_"

"And you said?"

"I said, _'not in a thousand years."_

Clarice stopped talking. She closed her eyes for a moment, imagining.

Ardelia's patience was thin.

"Clarice! _And, then?_"

"And, then…it happened."

Patting her hand on the table in an attempt to refocus her friend, Ardelia insisted, "Girl you are killing me! _What happened?_"

"That's how I got the cuff on him…He was distracted because… he kissed me…Hannibal Lecter kissed me!"

Ardelia was shocked. That most definitely wasn't what she assumed might have happened. Hell, that thought wasn't even on the radar.

"Jesus, do you know where that mouth has been? Did you kiss him back?"

"No, but I wanted to. I _really_ wanted to and I don't know how I feel about it. I only know I can't tell them…any of it."

"The way we snuck out of that hospital…they're gonna think you're trying to hide something."

"I don't care what they think. I only care what they can prove."

Ardelia sat quietly at Starling's side knowing that Clarice was still processing what she had experienced. If Ardelia was shocked by the suggestion, Clarice must have been absolutely blown away by the event itself. Not knowing how her friend felt, Ardelia sat quietly and offered her quiet support.

Both women knew without any doubt they would never share the details of the intimacy Clarice and Hannibal shared. Not with Pearsall or anyone else at the FBI. Not with anyone else, period. The kiss would never be mentioned. Not by Clarice or Ardelia.

The phone rang out, interrupting the silence. Unsure of what to do, Ardelia suggested, "Want me to get that for you? It will probably be Pearsall. He needs to report back to Noonan. I can put him off, for tonight at least."

Walking to the phone, Clarice resigned herself, "No, I don't want you to be implicated any more than you already are. I'll get this. What can he do, fire me? I'm already on suspension."

Clarice drew in a deep breath as she lifted the receiver from its cradle.

"Starling here."

Pearsall's was enraged. He pressed the question to Clarice with all the aggression of a gun to her head, "Why did you leave the hospital before you were fully examined, Agent Starling?"

Clarice responded with restraint, throwing his own words back in his face.

"Why are you calling me Agent Starling? I'm not a law officer while I'm on suspension…I'm Joe Blow."

"I'm not amused, Clarice."

"Yeah, well, very little about this is amusing Mr. Pearsall."

"I am still unclear as to why you are refusing to be tested to ascertain whether or not a crime was committed to your person while you were unconscious."

"As I stated at the hospital it is my right to refuse any medical treatment that I deem unnecessary. If you are so convinced that a rape occurred, test the sheets. With everything else he had to organize I'm sure Hannibal Lecter didn't have time to strip the sheets off the bed and do the laundry as well."

"Very well agent Starling, if that's how you want to play this. Please report to my office to participate in a debriefing—this will be an informal inquiry regarding your role in Dr. Hannibal Lecter's escape, Monday morning at nine. It is a fact-gathering meeting and you remain on suspension pending the outcome. I will oversee the debriefing however Deputy Director Noonan will make the final decision."

"I'll be there."

Clarice slammed the receiver and turned to her friend. "Jesus Christ… I need another drink."

**Until the next chapter, my friends!**

**LH**


	3. Chapter 3

**COMMON PRACTICE**

The small conference room beside Pearsall's office was filled with lawyers, F.B.I. agents, various members of the bureau's administration, and the head surgeon from a local hospital who had been called in to review the medical evidence at the scene.

Conspicuously missing were members of the Justice Department.

Clarice shifted in her seat on the far side of the conference table. She was never comfortable having her back to an open door. Habitually checking over her shoulder, realizing she was about to be stabbed in the proverbial back, she was even more wary.

"Agent Starling."

"Director Noonan."

Clarice responded with a nod and a roll of her eyes as Noonan walked past, circling the entire table surveying the assemblage before choosing the seat directly opposite hers. He folded his hands and leaned slightly. It seemed as if he might be attempting to share an intimate conversation, but the expanse of the table was such that he actually had to raise his voice above what might be considered a normal conversational tone just to be heard.

"Clarice, I want you to know that during this proceeding just consider me Pontius Pilate. I've washed my hands of it. I have no desire to see you persecuted. It's just…procedure."

_Yeah, nice try, but I'm not buying it!_

"I appreciate the sentiment. Not that I'm comparing myself to Jesus, but when Pilate washed his hands of him, I don't think that did much to help Christ's case…it most certainly didn't affect the outcome."

"I just wanted you to know that there is no pleasure in this for me."

"Then we have something in common, Sir."

"It's just a formality. We'll just look at the evidence…we need _all_ the facts, Starling."

_Hannibal Lecter has more honor, dignity and loyalty than everyone at this table combined and that's a fact! Pontius Pilate, my ass!_

Restraining her desire to speak her mind, she smiled politely, nodding.

_Look at the evidence! What evidence do you want next, a freaking pap smear? _

Pearsall lead the questioning. Every query seemed to point to his personal belief that Hannibal Lecter saved Clarice because she had, in some way, aided him. He was going as far as to insinuate that he tended to her wounds in such a manner as to make even the most casual of observers believe that there was more to their relationship than Clarice was admitting.

"Agent Clarice Starling you disobeyed a direct order and endangered yourself and your career in order to save Hannibal Lecter. Hannibal Lecter in turn went out of his way to carry you to safety and to tend to your injury by performing emergency surgery and providing extensive aftercare. Paul Krendler was murdered because, in some way, Hannibal Lecter believed he had offended you. Is that a fair assessment of the facts Agent Starling?"

Clarice steadied herself before responding, making an effort to remove any hint of anger and recrimination from her tone.

"No. That is _not_ a fair assessment of the facts, Mr. Pearsall. The _real_ fact of the matter is that Paul Krendler was corrupt in the extreme and was killed by Hannibal Lecter strictly as a means of self-preservation. Krendler was assisting Mason Verger with his plan to murder Doctor Lecter in a twisted and perverse revenge scenario. Krendler did this strictly for monetary gain. They underestimated Lecter and it blew up in both of their faces. That I was there at all, I believe is incidental."

Noonan sought clarification.

"You entered a private residence without any form of Bureau authorization or a warrant of any kind with the intent to search for Doctor Lecter?"

_Yeah, I was born at night, but not__** last**__ night. You'll have to do better than that if you want to trip me up._

Clarice folded her hands neatly on the table and spoke dispassionately.

"No. After my initial visit, Mason Verger told me to feel free and return if I had any questions. I had a question. I was merely taking him up on his open-ended invitation. Upon entering the area, it was obvious a crime was being committed and couldn't in all good conscience allow Doctor Lecter to be fed to a pen of wild boars."

Pearsall couldn't restrain himself, noting with sarcasm, "Pity that Mr. Verger is not with us to confirm that invitation today, Starling."

"Oh yeah, it's a _real _loss to society." She answered, making no attempt to mask the sarcasm dripping from her statement. "I have admitted to the facts of the case as I reported them and find it hard to believe that this interrogation…"

Raising a hand, Noonan interjected, "It isn't an interrogation, Agent Starling."

"Okay…whatever...this debriefing, I want to be clear that I absolutely take offense to the innuendo that oozes from every sentence. You have questioned me at length with insinuations that Dr. Lecter tended to me with a level of sensitivity that he would not have extended to the average patient. I disagree with that assumption."

Pearsall countered quickly, "One could make the argument that you received _very_ special treatment from Dr. Lecter."

Driving her index finger repeatedly into the table, Clarice stressed with all vehemence, "How can you make that argument? You're attempting to ascribe motivations to Dr. Lecter that cannot be supported by the medical evidence."

Pearsall argued, "You're hardly in a position to argue that, Starling. Why else would he have spent so much time? It's really obvious he has feelings for you."

_Like a nut with a crush…_

Clarice continued, very passionate in her assertions as she presented an alternate explanation.

"I'll offer that this was no more than due diligence for a surgeon of Dr. Lecter's ability and I attribute my exceptional care and recovery to his extensive medical training. I know this might be at odds with your impressions of Dr. Lecter as a human being, but he knew the Bureau would dissect his every move and I truly believe the care he took was more for your benefit than mine."

Noonan's curiosity was piqued.

"What do you mean by that, Starling?"

"I believe he was actually showing off a little. It isn't as if his ego isn't well known. He wanted to be impressive and he was just that; he was fucking impressive!"

They turned in unison as if following the volley at a tennis match, all collectively facing the surgical expert consulted to review the medical evidence left at the scene.

"Well, Dr. Campion? Although Starling considers herself the expert on all things Lecter, you're the only one in the room _truly_ qualified to assess the situation, so what's your opinion?"

The sycophantic tone Pearsall directed at the surgeon made it obviously the deputy director was looking for corroboration from him.

The surgeon was not interested in Pearsall but from his excited tone, it was apparent that after reviewing the medical file and examining Clarice, he was extremely interested in Hannibal Lecter, M.D. He sorted through his file, spreading evidence across the table, organizing the papers along with his thoughts.

"I carefully went through all of the medical evidence Dr. Hannibal Lecter left at the scene, including a series of extremely extensive notes regarding the surgery and his treatment of Clarice Starling. The notes were organized much like any surgeon would complete but with an extremely diligent attention to detail. All of the surgical preparations were listed along with the processes he used; this included instruments utilized and the method of sterilization, the surgery itself, and all of the medications and fluids that were given along with the extensive post-surgical treatments."

He paused and shuffled the papers nervously searching his notes before continuing.

"As I said all of the medications were listed, proper dosages were allotted and exact times the meds were administered show that the patient, Clarice Starling, had received fluids intravenously and had been prescribed not only a wide spectrum antibiotic but also very carefully spaced morphine injections to be certain that she would not suffer from infection and would be free of immediate pain."

"Is this common practice?" Pearsall questioned.

"Yes, it is common practice." The surgeon continued.

"Was there anything unusual in the treatment of Clarice Starling by the cannibal, Hannibal Lecter?"

The surgeon's eyes shot up, meeting Pearsall's as he stressed, "_Doctor_ Hannibal Lecter went as far as to describe his suture technique. That was the only thing slightly out of the ordinary."

Clarice nodded an acknowledgement to the surgeon. He had taken umbrage to the 'cannibal' reference in the context of Lecter's surgical prowess and made sure that Pearsall took notice of his offense.

Noonan wanted to be very clear, pursuing the concept.

"Again is this unusual or is this a standard operative procedure?"

Doctor Campion turned, making eye contact with Noonan in an effort to make his thoughts clear.

"The suture technique demonstrated was detailed and much more complex than necessary. It was specifically enlisted to minimize scarring. This technique would be more commonly used by a plastic surgeon, not an emergency room surgeon."

Unlike Pearsall who felt he had cause to be upset, Noonan actually seemed to be reserving judgment.

"What would be your final professional assessment?"

The surgeon sat forward in his chair. It was clear that he did not wish to support Pearsall in any way.

"I would say that Dr. Hannibal Lecter was absolutely professional and more than thorough in the delivery of care of his patient. It is simply that his skill level is quite advanced. In my professional opinion his level of surgical skill… Well…it's not only advanced…it is… Artistic."

Pearsall was absolutely taken aback. _"Artistic? _You've gotta be kidding me!_"_

Noonan turned toward the deputy director and flashed a disapproving glance. This non-verbal reproach caused Pearsall to close his mouth, now illustrating his disapproval by throwing his body back against his seat, frustrated.

Unaffected by Pearsall's clear disapproval, Campion continued.

"Yes, there is a certain flare to his skill that reaches the level of artistry. This was not a quick triage and absolutely not an emergency patch up. With a surgeon demonstrating this level of personal ability; the medical attention demonstrated would not be beyond the realm of expected care. Dr. Lecter is obviously a perfectionist, he wanted to demonstrate his surgical alacrity and he wanted to be certain that Clarice Starling would not only survive but would thrive."

Pearsall's frustration pushed him forward.

"So, you refuse to go as far as to say that he gave her special treatment? _Seriously?"_

"I would go as far as to say that the care given Agent Starling was more thorough than she would have received had she been admitted to an emergency room presenting the same injury. Great time was taken with her and that is not a luxury that an emergency room surgeon would have. Dr. Lecter was thorough I will even go as far as to say that I am exceedingly impressed with his surgical techniques, but there is no evidence to suggest that he wouldn't offer the same level of care to any other patient."

"You've got to be as blind as she is! How the hell has everyone lost sight of the fact that this guy is a cold-blooded killer?"

The doctor had had just about all he could take from Pearsall.

"He _didn't _kill her…he _saved_ her. Look…my expertise is Medicine. That is _all_ I am qualified to speak to. I don't know anything about the man other than what I can see of him based on his reports and my examination of Ms. Starling. I will say that it is a shame that circumstances are such that Dr. Lecter cannot practice medicine, as he is an extremely gifted surgeon. I am not qualified to judge him on any other level."

Clarice took the opportunity to reinforce her point.

"So, you're saying that the medical evidence does not validate Mr. Pearsall's claims that I received any form of special treatment?"

"There is no evidence of special treatment and I can find no fault in the execution of services he extended to you, Ms. Starling."

"In other words you are part of his fan club now too." Pearsall added sarcastically.

Doctor Campion took exception to the inference.

"_In other words, _Agent Pearsall, Dr. Hannibal Lecter is one hell of a surgeon and he…well, for lack of a better term and borrowing from Agent Starling…was fucking impressive!"

Pearsall dismissed the doctor and his comments with an off-handed wave.

"Thank you Doctor; if you will excuse us."

The surgeon collected his paperwork ignoring Pearsall. As he passed the table he stopped briefly in front of Clarice and extended his hand to shake hers. Clarice smiled as she spoke.

"Thank you for your expertise, Doctor. I appreciate the fairness with which you presented your report."

Taking her hand he replied graciously, "It was a pleasure, Agent Starling. I was honored to review your case. It was… enlightening."

Pearsall rolled his eyes and groaned aloud as he waited for the surgeon to take his leave.

Starling placed her hands, palm down on her thighs and looked directly ahead, careful to keep any extraneous movement and eye contact to a minimum. She wanted to offer as little in the way of body language as humanly possible. She answered only the questions put to her and offered absolutely no information other than what they already knew. She most certainly did not mention the kiss. Never mention the kiss. Tell no one about the kiss…

Pearsall paused momentarily, "Well, if Lecter is so thorough…so goddamned gifted…then why would he leave the phone wires unattached so you merely had to take a moment to re- connect them?"

He continued absentmindedly, his eyes searching in space as if he were discovering the facts floating in the air as he went along.

"The phones in Krendler's home had multiple lines so if Lecter were paying any attention at all he would have been made aware of the exact moment you were making the call for backup. The lighted buttons on the phone on the main floor of the house would have alerted to him that the line on the second floor was active and in use? Why not remove the phone or smash it altogether? Why not leave as soon as the call was made. He would know the response time would be minimal."

"I know better than to attempt to ascertain the motivations of Hannibal Lecter. Only he can tell you why he did those things. His intellect operates on another plane. I can only tell you that there are no accidents. Even when something goes wrong he has already considered that and has prepared for the contingency. Had I not entered that barn when I did, I still believe Hannibal Lecter would have escaped the situation."

Noonan wasn't so sure.

"How can you say that, Starling?"

"He was far too calm, as if he had a secret. He was surrounded by bloodthirsty boars and in the custody of Sardinian assassins and he was unaffected. He had something up his sleeve I have no doubt."

Though Noonan was clearly considering the facts, Pearsall was under the impression that he was the only sane man in the room and believed there was more to the situation than Clarice was willing to discuss. The thought that there was a truth he couldn't uncover, and that Clarice might be hiding that truth, for whatever reason, poisoned his tone.

"We will never know that because _your_ intervention made any action on _his _part unnecessary."

Noonan was receiving and answering a series of text messages. He looked over at Pearsall and forwarded the last text to Pearsall's phone.

Pearsall read the text message and winced.

Clarice could tell that Pearsall was obviously not happy with the last message. He shoved his phone so deeply into his jacket pocket that it was surprising to Clarice that he didn't rip the pocket off from the force.

Noonan went into the next room and returned with a badge and Clarice's service weapon. He placed it on the table in front of Pearsall.

"You can be the one to give it back."

Noonan walked over to Starling and extended a hand. She reached out hesitantly and shook his hand.

"Well you seem to be one lucky woman Agent Starling. Justice wants this kept within the department. They are concerned about the ramifications of the Krendler/Verger connection. You are being fully reinstated."

"If I am being reinstated Director Noonan, this is the last I will speak about this case. I gave my statement to the police officers and the federal agents on the scene. I called the FBI and informed them of Dr. Lecter's last whereabouts as soon as I was conscious enough to do so. I attempted to apprehend him at great risk to myself personally. There was nothing more I could have done. I'm through with this."

Pearsall choked on the statement as he pushed her badge and gun, still tucked in the holster, toward her across the table.

"I know there is more here than meets the eye but thanks to the Justice Department… my hands are tied. You're being reinstated but obviously someone else will handle all of the Lecter evidence from now on. None of this makes any sense."

She reached across the table picked up her badge and service weapon, and spoke with confidence, "That's the understatement of the century."

**Until the next chapter, my friends!  
><strong>

**LH**


	4. Chapter 4

**PREPARATIONS**

It didn't take long for Clarice to exit the building and reach her car. During that time, she forced the thought of Hannibal Lecter from her mind.

_He's always with me, like a bad habit._

She refused to recall his image or his voice; any deliberate thought of the man was temporarily banned from her consciousness, not from fear or embarrassment, but privacy. He had become for her not a place to hide, but to seek refuge and find comfort, solace even. Hannibal was the memory called to mind for clarity, the voice of reason evoked when she was lonely, anxious, or, on rare occasions frightened even. There was no longer fear associated with this man, but warmth at the thought of him. So, although she knew the FBI and assorted officials couldn't read her mind, she wouldn't reveal him in her thoughts in front of anyone for any reason at all. She would wait until she was in her car. Alone.

Unlocking her car, she recalled the meeting, Pearsall's attitude causing the bile to rise in the back of their throat and her heart to pound in anger. Sliding behind the wheel, she sat for a moment and took several deep breaths, gripping the steering wheel, choking it as she steamed, "Pearsall…you son of a…"

Even though she was alone in the car, she held her tongue and she turned the key bringing the Mustang to life. It was an oppressive day all around. The heat and humidity, combined with the stress of the day sapped every ounce of her strength. She reached for the air conditioner and flipped the switch: A whirring sound, a clank and nothing, absolutely nothing.

Clarice sat, her hands still gripping the steering wheel as the sweat tracked down her arm, dripping off at her elbows. She was hot, uncomfortable and worried about Hannibal. The anger and frustration tumbling together, rolling like boulder threatening to crush her, Clarice's body began to tremble uncontrollably. Suddenly in a fit of rage and desperation she began slamming her fists against the wheel.

"Fuck! Fuck!"

She threw the car into gear, slammed the gas pedal and tore out of the parking lot, tires spinning and smoking as Pearsall's last statement bounced around her subconscious mind.

_Well, if Lecter is so thorough…so goddamned gifted…then why would he leave the phone wires unattached so you merely had to take a moment to reconnect them?_

He was right. That bastard Pearsall was right! Surely Lecter's brilliant mind tumbled with scenarios when he reached for the cleaver and lifted it above his head, but still the cleaver fell. He drove the blade through his flesh, his bones rather than hers.

Hannibal Lecter, God-like in his omniscience…never unprepared…all contingencies accounted for…

_He left the cuffs out where I couldn't help but see them, right next to a fully operational telephone. Why?_

In her mind's eye Clarice could imagine Lecter with only a few minutes head start, traveling on foot, bleeding God knows how badly from that horrible wound and probably carrying his disembodied hand with him.

_With all that against him if they couldn't catch him on their own, fuck them!_

Sitting at a traffic light, watching people walking through the crosswalk, Clarice imagined Hannibal moving through the crowd. She thought at any moment his might step off the curb and appear in front of her, maroon eyes burning.

"No…he's hurt. He'll hide."

Suddenly, as if a shade went up allowing rays of bright light to finally illuminate the situation, it all made perfect sense to Clarice Starling.

_Omniscient…GOD-LIKE! Free will! He wanted me to know that no matter what the personal cost, he would always choose me and, in turn he wanted me…to choose him. I wanted to…_

But she didn't choose him. She let the cleaver fall, her heart sinking as the blade struck.

_Tell me Clarice…would you ever say to me stop…if you loved me, you'd stop?_

The terrifying moment of Lecter's gory self-mutilation had become for Clarice the ultimate expression of his love for her and as such it would remain between the two of them. No one would understand the bond they shared. No one would understand this gesture of self-sacrifice. Clarice would not cheapen it by allowing anyone to use it against him. In this way…in her very own, very private way, Clarice Starling chose Hannibal Lecter.

So, the manhunt was on. The F.B.I. wanted Hannibal Lecter and Hannibal Lecter wanted Clarice Starling. That made Clarice the only true danger to Hannibal. That thought troubled her greatly but what troubled her more was the understanding that she did want him. She wanted Hannibal Lecter and he wanted her.

_I can't go out and look for you they'll be watching me too carefully. You'll have to figure it out. Come back for me, Hannibal. Come back to me._

On the surface it would have appeared that only Clarice and Hannibal knew what had happened that night but Starling suspected differently. She believed there was one other person who could illuminate the evening's events. If Hannibal had been in need of immediate medical attention he would most definitely seek out his one ally from the asylum. Barney.

_Maybe he didn't bleed to death…maybe he didn't die. There's been no body…they haven't found his body, so maybe he's safe. Barney would help. Hannibal's got plenty of money and Barney's got plenty of connections. But, I can't contact him. I'll have to stay away if I want to give Hannibal a chance. Don't shine a light where you don't want them to look, Clarice. Just be prepared..._

* * *

><p>Blood spurting, Hannibal Lecter was forced to make a quick tourniquet. He then grabbed his hand and yanked a large freezer sized Ziploc bag from a box as he bolted out the door.<p>

Sirens closing in, the helicopters would arrive soon. He needed to find cover, but he also needed to stabilize his hand. It was hot, the tissue wouldn't hold up well for very long, so he began searching for anything that might assist.

_It's the Fourth of July. There will have been cookouts. Beverages stored out of doors in this heat would require ice. Perhaps as the attendees go to the shore to watch the fireworks, I might be able to acquire enough to suit my purposes._

Searching the exterior of several homes to no avail, finally he discovered a foam cooler in a backyard seven or eight houses down that was still filled with partially melted ice from the picnic earlier in the evening.

Hannibal removed his handkerchief from his pocket and wrapped it around the severed hand to protect the sensitive cuttings on the ends from the ice. He then tore the sleeves from his shirt, now saturated with his blood and lined the cooler to keep the hand protected from direct contact with the ice.

Hannibal placed the hand in the plastic bag and used his teeth to zip it closed. He drained some of the water to lighten the cooler and placed his hand safely inside.

Lecter could see the flashlights shining in the distance and knew that he was a mere 2 minutes more or less ahead of the pack. Thankfully he had the forethought to hide his van at the very edge of the woods in a secluded area just on the other side of the lake.

_Now how to get to the other side with only one hand? _

His intention was to have a relaxing row across the lake with his Love, watch a bit of the fireworks, reach the van and begin a new life with her at his side.

_Oh well…the best laid plans…_

The injury would make the brief trip to the opposite shore much more trying. He slipped down the dock, untied the boat, climbed in and let the small vessel drift with the light current. When Lecter's instincts told him he was far enough across the body of water so as to make visual and auditory detection difficult, he began to paddle. He kept his eyes on the helicopters, wary should he have to take to the water.

Hannibal wedged the handle of the oar between his injured arm and his ribcage. With his remaining hand he gripped tightly and forced the oar along the length of his body and downward through the water; a mighty task for a one handed man. After what seemed to be an eternity he was able to slip quietly into the water and turn the boat around. He shoved it back toward the previous shore.

They would spot it on the water with the searchlights from the helicopters just coming into range. The dinghy would serve as a distraction to them as they would be forced to investigate. Pulling even one agent off his tail would improve his chances. He then jogged through the woods, emerging, as planned, just behind a large automotive repair shop closed for the week. He carefully unlocked the van placed earlier in the day and loaded the cooler. He then pulled himself up into the van, mindful of the mutilated arm.

Dr. Lecter placed a phone call to Barney as soon as he reached the safety of his planned safe house. Hannibal's belt had loosened from the movement of the oar, the wound now bleeding profusely. Lecter calmly used his teeth to tighten the belt and stop the blood flow.

The injury was throbbing and the pain was almost unbearable but Lecter would have little time to dwell on his circumstances. Barney answered the call on the first ring.

"Hello, Dr. Lecter. Is there something I can do for you?"

"Good evening, Barney. I am having a bit of an emergency and I hoped you might be able to assist me. This circumstance is beyond the scope of my medical abilities at the moment."

"Anything for you, Doctor Lecter, may I ask the nature of your injury?"

Hannibal took a moment, drawing in a deep breath as he concentrated on the affected nerve endings, compartmentalizing the pain.

"I severed my left hand approximately two inches above the wrist."

There was a pause on the other end of the phone as Barney processed the information. After a moment to consider the situation, he sought confirmation.

"Did you say that _you_ severed it?"

"Yes, Barney. I severed it myself. Clarice cuffed my hand and would not give me the key. The F.B.I. entered the area. It was my hand or hers."

Again, a moment of reflection as Barney considered the circumstances.

_Hannibal Lecter maimed himself because he didn't want to injure Clarice? Is that what he just said? _

"So it was your hand or hers and…you chose yours?"

If he perceived the thinly veiled shock in Barney's voice, Hannibal made no note of it. Instead he explained, "Yes, of course; I removed it with a cleaver. It is a very clean cut and I have the hand with me. If at all possible, I would like to have it surgically reattached. I am in need of an exceptional surgeon, possibly with battlefield experience, and of course one who would be… discreet."

Considering the scope of favors Hannibal could have asked, this actually ranked very low. Barney had quite a few connections in the medical field and knew of one man in particular, a talented surgeon who could use the money. If he happened to be available, it would work out quite well.

"I do have such a person in mind. He's a hell of a surgeon and a friend of mine. Not practicing, PTSD from three tours of duty overseas and got caught up in a real serious shit storm in the Middle East. Lots of kids, two or three are college age so he could use the cash. I know him well so he would be discreet. Is money a concern? This sort of service would demand a fairly large fee; in excess of $150,000 I would think… maybe a bit more."

Hannibal's voice returned with not pause. The amount was not only no cause for concern, the amount came as no shock. Barney assumed Hannibal, preparing for escape, made certain to have a large sum of cash at his disposal.

"Money is no concern Barney. I will pay whatever the gentleman requires."

The next consideration, where? It would be better for all concerned if Hannibal's newly purchased home could be used. Helping deliver some items that Hannibal thought might be tracked if he himself made the purchases, he asked Barney to help him stock the home. Barney in fact chose and ordered most of the furniture as well. He thought it unusual that Hannibal didn't wish to pick out the items, but he didn't question the man. The only room Hannibal selected the furniture for was one specific bedroom. Unusual, but again, Barney didn't pry. He was paid well, and was, for the most part, Hannibal's friend. If, indeed the man had any need of such.

Barney had no way of knowing where Hannibal was currently and wouldn't ask over the phone, but he knew where the home was. Barney helped stock medical supplies and knew it to be outfitted with supplies similar to a surgical suite. If Hannibal could get there, it would be ideal.

Cautious not to reveal the location, Barney quizzed, "Can you get to your safe place?"

Hannibal knew not to elaborate. "Yes, I am in fact on my way."

On to practical concerns, if he can get to the home, he's mobile. That means he's healthy enough to begin some of the preparations. The hand might be saved if no time was wasted.

"Are you able to start an I.V.? This might take some time and you will need fluids replaced immediately."

"Yes, I believe I can get all of the prep work started."

Knowing it would be better to involve as few people as possible, Barney needed to know what Hannibal considered a necessity.

"Is an anesthesiologist necessary?"

Hannibal wasn't squeamish as a surgeon he would prefer to keep awake and alert.

"No. Local only, I wish to remain awake for the procedure, are you capable of scrubbing in to assist the surgeon. I trust you implicitly Barney. I want a set of medically trained eyes on this physician other than my own, in the event that I become unconscious during the procedure."

"Absolutely, I'll watch him like a hawk."

Secrecy his main consideration, though he knew Barney needn't be reminded, Hannibal felt the need to say, "My residence must be kept secret."

Reassuring, Barney confirmed, "I'll transport him blindfolded. Please make sure that the curtains are drawn so he can't identify any landmarks through the windows. I'll be there within the hour."

"Thank you Barney. By the time you arrive I will have made all of the necessary preparations."

Hannibal Lecter purchased the home on the Chesapeake Bay just a short drive from Krendler's house. Hiding in plain sight was a very effective strategy and one that Lecter employed whenever possible.

Barney entered Lecter's safe house through the garage, guiding the thoroughly blindfolded surgeon past Lecter's van and into the home. Hannibal had the forethought to leave the door open from the garage to the home so that if he lost consciousness, Barney would be able to enter the residence and provide medical assistance.

Lecter cleaned the wound at the end of his arm and wrapped it in gauze. He then converted the dining room into a makeshift operating room. Instruments were sterilized and arranged neatly, white sheets covered the table, syringes and medications were readily available as were saline bottles. He placed a bag of his own blood on the makeshift intravenous pole and inserted a needle in his arm. Ever prepared, Hannibal always kept a few pints at the ready. He connected the intravenous line to replace his precious fluid. Seeing Barney enter with the surgeon, Hannibal continued his preparations as he spoke.

"Welcome gentlemen, please come in!"

**Until the Next chapter, my friends!**

**LH**


	5. Chapter 5

**BLOOD MONEY**

Seeing that Dr. Lecter had drawn all of the curtains eliminating any external visual cues that might reveal the location of the home, Barney was able to unravel the many layers of surgical packing and gauze blindfolding the surgeon. In designing the blindfold, realizing it was Independence Day Barney understood a fireworks injury would not seem out of the ordinary. He decided if the dressing had been wrapped to appear as if the man had recently undergone eye treatment, the covering wouldn't be questioned if the police stopped their vehicle.

It isn't as if the officers could ask the man to remove the bandages if the paperwork clearly stated exposure to any light could cause permanent blindness or severely exacerbate the injuries. The medical paperwork represented severe cornea damage from a fireworks mishap. In the event that the F.B.I. had roadblocks in the area, they would be waved through, no questions asked.

Barney even went as far as to prepare an official hospital admittance form, admittance bracelet and emergency room discharge instructions detailing such. He'd done as much before. Nursing school hadn't been free; he had to find one way or another to pay the tuition and his orderly duties had allowed him fairly free access to the computer, a copy machine and various admissions forms. Hannibal's personal property brought Barney a considerable amount of money recently, but he had been forced to sit on that material for a while so as not to draw undue attention. He had been creative in his fundraising, skirting the law to earn where he could, but he never hurt anyone. He simply took advantage of the opportunities presented him.

Hannibal greeted the man warmly, his left hand conspicuously missing, the stump of the arm bandaged and bloodied.

"Thank you for your prompt response, my friend."

Barney smiled. It was not simply the smile of a friend greeting a friend, but that of a friend who clearly understood there was a pecking order to the relationship with Barney exceedingly clear as to his place. Though their history was not always as such, Barney acknowledged Hannibal to be the alpha male in their friendship, if it could even be called as such considering the man didn't seem to require much human interaction. Hannibal did, after all, dictate their interaction initially going months at a time without so much as making eye contact or even speaking.

During Hannibal's incarceration, the bonds might have restrained Lecter's body, Barney might have dictated by order of Chilton where and when the good doctor was allowed to wash, exercise, eat, even sleep, but Hannibal dictated how smoothly that process went. If you showed the man respect and did your best to preserve his dignity when possible, you were treated with respect, kindness even. Hannibal could, if the mood took him, be quite pleasant. If you disrespected him, life would not go as smoothly. If you were blatantly offensive, your life might be forfeit altogether. No, Barney respected the man and truly enjoyed his time with Hannibal but never lost sight of who and what Hannibal was.

"You're very welcome, Dr. Lecter. Allow me to present Dr. Galen Woodhall. He was a battlefield surgeon and has had extensive surgical experience reattaching severed limbs."

Hannibal extended his uninjured hand. The doctor accepted, shaking Hannibal's hand, his eyebrows lifting in surprise at the strength of Hannibal's grip.

"It is a pleasure to meet you, Doctor Woodhall. I thank you for your expertise and your discretion."

"Not at all, I'm happy to help."

Barney explained the arrangements.

"Dr. Woodhall has agreed to work on your hand for a fee of $150,000. I wasn't certain whether you would be able to make the financial arrangements prior to the surgery. I have some funds available, so if you would like me to cover the costs I'd be more than happy."

"Thank you, that won't be necessary, Barney."

Hannibal gestured to Doctor Woodhall, directing his attention to the area beside the door.

"The zippered banker's envelopes on the table next to the door each contain $50,000. There are four so it appears you will be receiving a bonus if I may count on you for your discretion as a Doctor and a gentleman."

Woodhall nodded enthusiastically.

"I have three children attending various private Universities around the country, Doctor Lecter, and their tuitions are due. Although this is certainly an ill-timed injury for you the timing couldn't be better for me. I promise that I will never breathe a word of this to anyone. Ever."

Though Hannibal was smiling, his eyes darkened.

"Very good, I'm so heartened that we understand each other because, if you did…"

Hannibal intentionally left the sentence hanging unfinished.

Woodhall waited several seconds until he was certain he wouldn't be interrupting. He then responded jokingly, "I'm sure if I did I _would _never breathe another word or, breathe at all for that matter!"

Barney cringed as Hannibal stared for a moment, unblinking as he processed the man's comment. When Hannibal responded wryly, Barney's shoulders settled.

"You have a dark sense of humor. I like that. Well let's get to it then, shall we."

Barney helped Hannibal up onto the table and administered a series of injections around the site and up the length of the arm to block the pain. He then turned to Hannibal.

"We have to move quickly. Where is your hand, Doctor Lecter?"

"You will find it in the small foam cooler on the sideboard; securely packed in ice."

The hand had to be cleaned carefully and the exposed musculature and tendons prepared to be rejoined. The surgeon trimmed and prepped with exceptional speed. The bones had to be aligned properly and secured before the nerves, muscles and tendons could be confidently reattached. Barney scrubbed in, assisting competently.

The blade that severed the hand had been recently sharpened making for a smooth cut. Hannibal had already done much to prepare the hand so it was an easier task than the surgeon had anticipated. He had been expecting much more of a hacking injury with possible crushing of the bones. This cut was cleanly made with one pass, elegant in its precision.

Though the surgeon was efficient, professional and obviously extremely skilled, Hannibal's eyes never left the man as he carefully surveyed the progress of the extensive operation. As the surgeon began making preparations to close the wound, Barney could see beads of sweat pearling on Hannibal's forehead. Checking his watch, he realized the anesthetic had worn off.

"Doctor Lecter?"

"Yes, Barney?"

"The anesthetic?"

The surgeon stopped, panicked. "The medication has worn off?"

Barney nodded, "Absolutely."

Hannibal's voice was calm, steady. "I am fine, Barney." He shifted his eyes to the surgeon. "Please, continue."

Neither Barney, nor the surgeon wanted to anger Hannibal.

"What should I do?" the surgeon questioned, obviously concerned.

"If he says go, just go."

His vigilance no longer needed, Hannibal closed his eyes to abrogate the pain.

Barney understood.

The surgeon obviously didn't agree.

"He can't flinch. It'll ruin everything."

Controlling the situation as Hannibal trusted he would, Barney confirmed.

"He won't flinch. He won't move an inch. Just finish the damned thing."

The surgeon nodded, lowered his head and finished the operation.

_Hannibal Lecter held Clarice in his arms, undressing her slowly. As he peeled away the layers of clothing, carefully supporting her upper body his nostrils flared. The blood around the wound was seeping slowly, saturating the fabric. As he removed the shirt, Hannibal allowed just a moment to appreciate her form. He then pushed aside his manhood and forced the surgeon forward. The clinking of clamps and the pull of sutures on his own body called to mind his attention to her wounds. Hannibal relived each stage of Clarice's operation, each decision, the feel of the bullet pulling from the wound, the tying of each suture. He then cleaned the surgical site, proud of his work._

The sound of the surgeon's voice called him from Clarice, therefore Hannibal had to force himself not to respond with anger. He had so little time with her. He wanted more.

"Doctor Lecter, I believe we have come to the end of this. I am pleased to say that due to the cleanliness and precision of the cut and its fortunate placement above the intricate nerve bundles of the wrist and hand, there should be little damage to the nervous system other than some minor areas of initial tingling and some temporary numbness you should recover rudimentary use quickly. There is also very good blood flow from the arm to the hand. If that continues, I believe you will suffer no ill effects. The hand was in a very nice state of preservation and as such the tissues had not degraded. I believe that, after therapy of course, you will have full function of this hand."

Hannibal's eyes were bright. If Barney hadn't known that the anesthetic had essentially worn off the last thirty minutes or so, he'd never have known.

"Thank you Doctor. I truly appreciate your assistance, my very best to your children as they pursue their educations."

"Thank you, Sir. If you are ever again in need of my services, I will be more than happy to assist."

"My sincerest gratitude, Doctor, I hope that will not be necessary but that knowledge is comforting."

Barney put a hand on Lecter's shoulder, placed a pillow under his head and lowered Hannibal to the comfort of the down pillow. Though his discomfort had not been evident, Barney knew his friend was exhausted by the events of the day.

Barney retrieved additional gauze and again wrapped the surgeon's eyes. That accomplished, he turned and winked at Hannibal, he, in turn, nodded his understanding.

"Dr. Lecter, I will be bringing Dr. Woodhall back to his home and I'll return to assist you. Please remain in this position and I'll be right on back to help you to organize yourself. I've made arrangements for you to leave the area tonight."

It was understood that Dr. Lecter would not leave as he would need time to recuperate, but it didn't hurt to let the surgeon think he had fled…just in case. The blindfold was a necessity as well. Friend or no friend it wouldn't do for the man to know the exact address of Hannibal Lecter.

Suddenly and without warning, the doorbell rang.

The surgeon panicked. "I've got a wife and family! I can't be seen here!"

"Why?" Dr. Lecter asked calmly. "Are you not friends with Barney?"

The man's voice trembled in response.

"Yes, of course I am or I wouldn't be here."

"If you are concerned you can wait here with me. This is something that Barney can most certainly handle without assistance." Turning from the surgeon to Barney, Lecter continued, "Barney do you have identification on you?"

"Yes, of course I do. Why do you ask, Dr. Lecter?"

"When they ask, simply show them your identification. This home was purchased in your name, Barney; a thank you for your friendship over the years. The local law enforcement officers are merely surveying the area to question the homeowners. There is nothing to worry about. If you give them no cause for concern, they cannot enter without a warrant."

Barney questioned, "What about the van?"

Having remained still for so long his muscles were stiff and sore. Hannibal arched his back, stretching. He seemed relaxed and unconcerned as he broadened his chest, spanning his unaffected arm as he extended his body fully.

"I traveled to it. It was not at the scene- although that is in your name as well."

Barney smiled. Of course Lecter had covered all the bases. He held up a hand gesturing for Woodhall to stay put. He then answered the door to two police officers.

"Is your name Barney Matthews?"

"Yes, gentlemen it is. Is there something I can do for you?"

"And you are the current owner of this home? Local tax records show the home was purchased June eleventh of this year?"

"Yes."

"Do you have any identification that proves you are indeed Barney Matthews?"

"Yes, I have several." Barney quickly presented his driver's license and his hospital identification.

"Why? Has there been a complaint about the noise? The party let out just after the end of the fireworks. I hope my guests didn't disturb my neighbors."

"It has nothing to do with your party sir. The fugitive Hannibal Lecter was reportedly in this area several hours ago. Either he has left the area or he has found a place to hide. We are just confirming the identity and safety of local homeowners and making sure that there is no evidence of illegal entry to any of their residences."

"I haven't heard or seen anything suspicious officers. My home is secure- I keep the alarm on even when I am at home. As soon as you leave I'll reactivate my security system. Do you have a card or a specific phone number in the event that I see or hear something suspicious?"

"Just call 911 and stay on the line. The dispatcher will relay any information to our department and we will investigate immediately."

"I'll do that. Thanks so much for your efforts to keep our neighborhood safe. Is there any distinguishing features I should be aware of to identify Lecter? Any scars or wounds? Anything that would help me to identify him?"

"Nah, he got off clean, not even a shot fired at him. He does have maroon eyes, though. Seriously. Really creepy as hell, a deep red color. That makes him really easy to identify. Would you mind if we check the exterior of your home to assure us that Dr. Lecter did not gain access to your property without your knowledge?"

"No problem…you can't be too careful."

"That's for sure. Have a good night Mr. Matthews."

"Take care of yourselves, Officers. Don't take any unnecessary chances."

The officers checked all of the exterior windows and doors for signs of illegal entry. When they were satisfied that the home was indeed secure they returned to their car and moved to the next home on the list.

Barney waited until he was certain they would not return.

Lecter had been leaning forward, still listening intently, his spent muscles tensed like coiled springs in the event he had to take flight.

"They've moved along Dr. Lecter-you're safe. Incidentally, the cops don't know about your hand. Maybe the F.B.I. is keeping it under wraps."

"Why would they? It would assist in identifying me."

"Who knows, maybe Clarice didn't tell them." Barney again lowered Hannibal's head onto the pillow.

"Thank you, Barney."

As soon as he heard Barney's car pulling out of the garage and the door closing, exhausted beyond measure, Lecter breathed a sigh of relief and allowed his heavily medicated body to relax. As he drifted off to sleep, Barney's words echoed in his mind.

_Maybe Clarice didn't tell them…_

Barney returned to his new home within the hour. He felt guilty having to rouse his friend but sleeping in a bed would be far better for his body than the table.

"Doctor let's get you to bed. I would like to get some additional pain medication and antibiotics in your system. I'll have you back to sleep in no time. A full night's peaceful rest will do you wonders."

Barney guided Lecter into the bedroom.

"Don't you think it's time you addressed me by my given name, my friend." Lecter commented as Barney helped him into bed.

"I don't know if I could get used to that, Sir. It seems… disrespectful."

"It is your choice. I would not want to make you feel uncomfortable."

He helped Hannibal get into bed and made certain that the hand was secure and quite immobile. Barney then placed an intercom system on his nightstand in case Lecter needed him. Next he arranged a tray of fruits and cheeses and brought several bottles of water to place on the nightstand, partially unscrewing the tops of each to give Hannibal easier access. Next, Barney reached for the intravenous line and injected a dose of morphine.

"Make sure you drink fluids and try to eat a bit if you can. Before I bed down in the guest room is there anything else I can get you Doctor?"

"Just the remote for the television, Barney… before I nod off, I think I'll watch the news."

**Until the next chapter, my friends!**

LH


	6. Chapter 6

**HANNIBAL LECTER'S WOMAN**

It would have been no surprise to Clarice Starling that Hannibal Lecter had been closely monitoring her movements. She had been sensing his presence for months but thought it just wishful thinking. There was no proof, just flashes in the corner of her eye, reflections in the glass of a store window while shopping, a fleeting glance while jogging.

_No, it couldn't be him. He wouldn't have stayed. He couldn't have stayed. It would have been too risky. If he got away, he might surface soon, it's been seven months…__**seven months**__._

She was still being tailed by the FBI, and still being observed though she wasn't sure if it was Hannibal or another F.B.I. agent. If it was an agent, it was one with experience. Hannibal would have to be careful if he intended to contact her. If it was Hannibal, he might be preparing to make a move soon. She hoped he might. If he did, she'd be ready.

She could find no tangible proof of her suspicions, so, she ignored her instincts and chalked up the hyper-vigilance to paranoia. Clarice half-expected to see Hannibal around every corner. She constantly searched for him in her periphery.

She _wanted_ to see him. She wanted to know what happened…especially to his hand.

_I want to see him? I want to see him!_

She thought for a moment that perhaps she should be admonishing herself; she should have dismissed the thought, but she couldn't. She needed answers. Her feelings aside, she concluded Hannibal Lecter wouldn't tempt fate or risk capture by staying in the area, even if she needed him near.

_He must be long gone by now…if he survived his injury… if..._

* * *

><p>Hannibal decided that it would be best to stay low and <em>not<em> attempt to leave the area. Barney was so appreciative for the home he agreed Hannibal could stay as long as he needed. Both men believed that if Clarice reported the injury, the F.B.I. would no doubt be profiling for it; the cast and rigging needed to stabilize his arm after the surgery would make Lecter far too easy to identify.

_Maybe Clarice didn't tell them..._

Barney's comment haunted Hannibal. He combed over news reports; scanned the Internet and read all of the press coverage following his escape. He kept all of the clippings that featured Clarice, especially with photos.

_Would you have kept the injury to my hand a secret, Clarice? Why? You haven't interviewed Barney either. He informed me that he was one of your first interviews when Mason Verger sought me. You have your reasons, no doubt. Might protecting me be one of them? Dare I hope?_

In all his exhaustive research, Hannibal learned there were graphic details regarding Paul Krendler's fate in the police reports and a description of the amount of blood in the kitchen, but each and every reference was to Krendler's blood. Not Hannibal's blood.

_Surely the blood had been typed. Did she wipe down the area? Did she clean the cleaver?_

To his surprise, there had been absolutely no mention of his romantic advance to Starling or his self-inflicted injury.

_The F.B.I could be withholding that information from the public, but why would they do that? It doesn't make any sense, counterintuitive at best. The injury, most especially during those first weeks, had been so obvious it would have aided them immeasurably. Why wouldn't they put it the news bulletins? Why hadn't the local hospitals been made aware the F.B.I. was profiling for a man presenting this injury?_ _Barney was certain that no such bulletin was issued to his place of employment._ _Even now, the scar…that alone would make it so much easier to spot me…so much easier to capture me. Had Clarice withheld the information? Why would she?_

Now, Hannibal wanted answers.

* * *

><p>He had begun tracking Clarice's movements immediately as soon as his health allowed him to do so. As he followed her from a distance he began to familiarize himself with her daily patterns, unaware that Clarice had created a very regimented schedule, hoping Hannibal might see an opportunity.<p>

It wasn't long after he began shadowing her movements that he decided their paths could indeed safely cross. He was an extremely patient man and had for a time actually enjoyed the weeks, then months, of cat and mouse.

For her part, although oblivious to the fact, Clarice believed she had almost caught sight of him on numerous occasions.

_Probably just wishful thinking..._

Although he was initially entertained, Lecter's patience with this game had come to an end. It had been seven months since their last moments together and Hannibal was growing restless. The repair to his hand had healed sufficiently so as not to draw attention to him during travel; the time had come for Hannibal Lecter to leave the United States.

* * *

><p>The Tattler printed story after story insinuating a sexual relationship each and every time their sales lagged. A reported physical relationship between Clarice and Hannibal not only piqued the nation's curiosity, but it sold papers insuring the story stayed on the front page.<p>

This disturbed Clarice as she had specifically avoided any and all emotional or romantic contact within the agency to prevent any sort of innuendo that she had slept her way to promotions; she had always been professional. She never crossed the line; even if she wanted to…and with Hannibal, she wanted to.

So, knowing she wasn't an easy lay, somewhere around the first time that Hannibal escaped from custody, men stopped asking her out. Her notoriety scared off a few. Her position with the F.B.I. scared off a few more but truly, Hannibal Lecter scared off the most. She was forced into a not self-imposed celibacy. Now that the rumors swirled around whether or not Hannibal had actually consummated their relationship- she might as well enter a convent.

_Hannibal Lecter's woman… yeah that's makes me a real guy magnet._

Clarice was not allowed to return to her previous assignment, relegated to training duties alone. No independent fieldwork. She filled her days breaking in the new trainees, assessing their abilities, reviewing and correcting their reports and helping them to learn the processes involved in navigating red tape within the bureau and submitting all the necessary paperwork. She was nothing if not organized, in her professional life that is… this month she was paired with an affable California surfer boy, six foot four inch, two hundred and twenty pound ex-Marine scout sniper, Logan Marley.

Logan was a pleasant guy, about thirty-five years old, more or less. He had a sweet face and was actually really good looking, but not at all Clarice's type. She didn't exactly find jarhead jocks attractive, though Ardelia had been drooling over the boy from day one. Clarice respected the fact that he was one hell of an accurate shot, recruited for his skills as a sniper. He was brilliant with trajectory, wind adjustments and stealth but not the sharpest knife in the drawer when it came to filling out the boatloads of reports necessary for every field agent. Starling was put in charge of his training in that regard.

She didn't mind him as much as some of the other agents she was forced to work alongside. At least Logan was friendly and harmless. A little irritating, maybe, like the baby brother you just can't stop from tagging along. The only real problem with Logan is that he had developed almost as unhealthy an obsession with Hannibal Lecter as her own. His behavior took the term 'fanboy' to a whole other level. The only thing he ever wanted to talk about with Clarice Starling was Hannibal Lecter. She cringed when he bounced into her office, his long blonde hair swinging as he hopped up onto her desk, sliding papers aside as his bottom slid to a halt.

"Hey, Clarice what's it like to sleep with a guy who loves to eat people? Bet he's fucking great at oral! That's what I heard anyway."

Keeping her eyes fixed on her computer screen, she commented dispassionately, "Stands to reason but I wouldn't know. You might have heard it somewhere, but it's not like you heard it from me."

Logan hopped off the desk and walked around the room, touching all of the Lecter photos and assorted memorabilia. Although Clarice wasn't actively investigating the case, neither was anyone else, so, when no one came to claim it, the material stayed with her.

Logan reached into his back pocket and pulled out a rolled up report. He handed it to Clarice. "Here's the paperwork for last night's surveillance. You'd better go Santa all over it, cuz I'm sure I screwed up something."

"Go Santa over it?"

"Yeah…you know, Santa. Check it twice."

Clarice laughed. This boy was entertaining as hell.

"Sure, Logan. I'll Santa the hell out of it, no problem."

Standing in front of Clarice's large light-up board illuminating Hannibal's photos and x-rays, Logan ran a finger over a copy of Lecter's mug shot. It was obvious to Clarice the boy's mind was back with Hannibal. She couldn't speak differently, her's was too.

Logan was genuinely curious, and even though the topic might have been off limits to most, he pursued the subject relentlessly.

"That's right…you were knocked out so you really wouldn't know, would you? Don't you ever feel bad you missed your own party?"

Clarice began marking the report with a red sharpie, circling errors and adjusting inaccuracies. There would be a lot of corrections before it would be suitable for submission.

Behaving as if the comment didn't affect her, Clarice answered calmly, "Like I said… I wouldn't know."

Logan found a desk chair, sat down and began spinning in circles as if he were on a playground.

"Yeah, Hannibal's a brilliant guy—speaks several languages. A real cunnilingus, uh, I mean a real cunning linguist!"

Clarice decided to ignore the comment because she really liked Logan. He was silly and harmless. Comments from other agents were different. They were said with a sneer, or the raised eyebrow of innuendo and insinuation. She considered filing sexual harassment charges but decided it wouldn't be taken seriously anyway. Not to mention any complaints on her part would stoke the flames of resentment at Quantico.

Setting down the sharpie, Clarice handing him back the amended report.

"Next time, just attach the report to an email so you don't have to look like a nine year old with a crappy book report sticking out of your back pocket."

"Yeah, that probably would have been a better way to go. So? Any news about Hannibal…any letters or phone calls? _Anything?_"

Curious, Clarice focused her attention on Logan.

"Why the hell are you so intrigued by Hannibal Lecter?"

Still spinning away, Logan answered, "I dunno really…I'm just so goddamned curious about him, you know? I just really wonder what makes him tick? Don't you wish you didn't have to follow the rules? He makes his own rules, you know? And he's just such a freaking genius! Wish I had balls like he does; someone pisses you off and you just…"

"You just get sentenced to nine consecutive life terms." She interrupted.

Logan brushed the comment off.

"He got himself out after what… only eight years? He got you out, too! Well, not out of jail but he got you away from those boars. They ate the shit out of everybody else in that pen! Everybody wonders why but I guess it's because he just really wanted you for himself."

_Just play long Clarice. He will get bored with it eventually…I hope!_

Logan stopped spinning his chair and sat forward, his elbows resting on his knees as he leaned over and whispered what he believed to be a secret shared between them.

"You're cool Clarice. I mean I can play around with you and talk about Hannibal and you don't get all pissy about it like most chicks do. You're cool, you know…like one of the guys!"

_Yea, just what I want to be…one of the guys. Story of my fucking life!_

Instead of answering, she smiled.

Twisting back and forth on the chair, watching Clarice type away at her computer. Logan questioned, "Hey, Clarice?"

"Yeah Logan?" she answered knowing what was coming and frustrated to death with the topic.

"Hannibal really carried you out of that pig pen and took a bullet out of you?"

Not even looking up, she responded, "Yes, he really did."

The creaking of the chair stopped. This was a question that must have been eating away at him.

"Why?"

"I don't know. Next time I see him I'll ask him."

"So you said you were asleep a lot of the time?"

"What are you getting at Logan?"

"Did they take a rape kit at the hospital?"

"No. There was no need. I wasn't raped."

Logan laughed, "Yeah, I guess that's true. I mean, Hannibal is a freaking stud and it isn't rape if the girl wants it right Clarice?"

Careful that her voice didn't reflect her true feelings, Clarice replied, "No, it wasn't rape because I didn't have sex with Hannibal Lecter-awake or asleep. I don't think he's so desperate that he needs to knock a woman out to get laid."

Logan nodded his head agreeing furiously, "Yeah, that pimp had enough women throwing themselves at him. I guess all those opera chicks and snooty symphony bitches have a tough time finding a guy that likes that culture crap that isn't gay. When they found out he likes women they were all up on it!"

_Sounds charming._

"Hey, Clarice? Have you ever seen the stuff on the Internet about him? There's a site called "Lecter's Lovers" where a bunch of the women he's had sex with give all these crazy details about him."

Eyes still focused on the screen glowing in front of her, Clarice countered, "You can't believe everything you read on the Internet, Logan."

"Maybe… but if even _half_ of that crap is true then it's insane!"

_Great, now I actually want to know what this goof is talking about._

She questioned him, careful not to seem to eager, "What's insane? Half of what crap?"

Logan leaned in as if someone might be listening. "Apparently, as I'm sure you can attest he's packing serious heat."

Clarice was careful not to react, feigning only a mild interest.

"He doesn't carry a firearm, ever. His weapon of choice is a Harpy. It's a hooked blade favored for its cutting and ripping abilities."

Doubled over and laughing hysterically at the misunderstanding, he explained, "I'm not talking about a gun! I'm talking about his …you know…his private parts! From what they say, he's built like a goddamned horse."

Her eyes lowered with her voice, "I really wouldn't know."

It was at that moment Clarice became very conscious of her body language, terrified that Logan might pick up on the fact that she was lying. She knew.

_I came all this way to watch you run, Clarice…let me run._

When Hannibal Lecter grabbed her the second time and threw her backward against the refrigerator door, their bodies came together.

Trapped against the door, Clarice was forced to bear the weight of his musculature. As he pressed his body against her body she could feel the full length of him. Knowing how aroused he had become, if she hadn't known him better… she might have feared rape.

Fortunately, Logan wasn't perceptive enough to notice the increased respirations and the full flush of Starling's cheeks as she briefly relived the moment. He continued with his conversation fully engaged in the topic.

"And there's this one chick named Emilia that slept with him like 50 times and she said not only is he the king of foreplay but he went at her all night! She was a really kinky chick, too. She was into all kinds of bondage and pain and stuff and she said he was totally dominant- like the best she ever had. She said she doesn't care who he killed he was so good she'd sleep with him again- anytime. What do you think?"

Her voice edged with envy, Clarice stated simply, "I think some women have no self-respect."

"Why'd you say that? Because she screwed a cannibal?"

Clarice cringed. She didn't want to think of anyone sleeping with Hannibal, especially someone with such dubious needs. Though she had no doubt some of his tastes tended toward the unconventional, she believed his standards were a bit higher than that.

"No, because the skank put her business out in the street for everyone to read."

"Ooh, jealous, Clarice? Hell, don't worry about it. She knew him when he got arrested, it's not like she's with him now. You should check it out, though, cuz it sounds like she loved every minute of it. Well, almost every minute of it. There was only one thing she complained about. It was the same thing they all complained about."

Clarice hated to pursue the comment but this was the first thing Logan said that actually caught her attention.

"What did they bitch about?"

"He wouldn't kiss them. He never kissed any of them. Well, I shouldn't say that—he kissed them pretty much everywhere else but never ever on the mouth. He told them it was too intimate. Crazy isn't it? I mean what's more intimate than muff diving and from what I've read he sure as hell didn't object to that. These women have no shame. A couple of them said they begged him but he wouldn't kiss any of them on the lips."

Clarice was amazed; after all, she knew virtually everything there was to know about Hannibal Lecter but because of her respect for him, his affairs were something she never investigated. That aspect of him, his sexuality, had nothing to do with his crimes and as such, she allowed him that privacy. She knew he was heterosexual and had come across the Internet sites during her investigations but she gave them no more than a cursory glance. That was a private matter and was therefore left beyond the scope of her investigations.

"Come on now Clarice. Just between the two of us…please! You can tell me I swear I won't tell anyone. He's a beast in the sack I bet!"

Finally, having had enough, Clarice raised her voice.

"Jesus Christ, Logan! Why are you so obsessed with Hannibal Lecter?"

Logan was so animated, wildly gesticulating to reinforce his point.

"Because you have to respect a guy like that- He kills anybody who screws with him. Plus he's a beast with the women! And if he got you in bed I gotta give it up to him cuz no one else has been able to close that deal!"

"I haven't slept with Hannibal Lecter. I'm sure that disappoints you but I would be willing to hook up to a lie detector right now to prove that fact."

"Alright…I just thought it was hot. You banging Hannibal Lecter...It makes you…I don't know…kind of like a celebrity."

"Sorry to disappoint you Logan. I'm just not that cool."

Clarice wiped the sweat from her brow. She was irritated by the constant references to Hannibal Lecter. She was irritated that her fellow agents were so preoccupied by the relationship, but more than anything else Clarice Starling was irritated that _she_ was so preoccupied with Hannibal Lecter.

"Hey you're not pissed I asked about this are you? I mean we're friends right? Just talking to each other, you know, just passing the time. Guys talk about crap like this all the time… I mean… I'm not dating anyone around here yet, and I don't have any sisters you know, so I have no freaking idea what girls talk about. You aren't all pissed are you? I'd be really upset if I thought I hurt your feelings or something like that. I really like you...like a friend I mean, we're cool…right?"

_Like a friend? Don't worry, I didn't want anything from you either. I mean, we seem to have a crush on the same guy. _

Clarice smiled.

"We're fine. I don't blame you for being curious and I'm not pissed, really. I'm heading out now. I think we've covered enough of the basics for the day. We've got that meeting to review procedures with the D.C. Police tomorrow, one favor though, Logan."

Thankful she wasn't angry, Logan affirmed, "Sure Clarice, anything for you."

"None of the Lecter conversations, okay. I don't want to talk about this in front of a bunch of swinging dicks from D.C.P.D., can you do me that favor?"

Smiling widely, Logan quickly agreed, "Sure Clarice…I get it. They don't understand. Only you and me, right?"

"That's it exactly."

Clarice thought it was amusing and a little sweet that Logan believed they were in some special society—like they shared a secret about Hannibal that no one else did. Logan really respected Lecter—like a goddamned groupie. He wouldn't discuss him in mixed company.

* * *

><p>After her shift was over Starling tossed herself into her mustang and headed home. She hadn't gotten more than three blocks when she noticed the F.B.I. undercover vehicle following her four cars back.<p>

"Jesus who did they put on this assignment? It must be a couple of rookies because they are about as subtle as a punch in the face."

Starling drove home quickly, exited her car and bounded up the steps to her duplex. The unmarked car that had been trailing her slowed as it passed the front of her home. Clarice did not make eye contact with the agent. She decided that it would be best to pretend she was unaware of the surveillance. She didn't want to draw any more attention to herself than she already had.

Clarice Starling entered her home totally preoccupied. Memories of that time with Hannibal whirled in her mind; Logan's questioning churning up the events of that fateful day.

_He rescued me. Why did he? I am the only person who could get close enough to capture him. If I were gone, he would be safe. If I were gone…_

A voice rang out from the other side of the duplex.

"Hey Clarice is that you?"

"Yeah Ardelia it's me. What's up? You going out tonight or staying in?"

Ardelia opened the door from her side of the duplex and poked her head into Clarice's side. The pair kept the outer door to the duplex locked but always left their own doors open to each other. Ardelia leaned against the joined door between their living spaces.

"I'm going out with that hot guy from the gym. You know, the one with the tight ass and the pretty eyes!"

Shaking her head, Clarice tossed her purse on the bench beneath the stairs. She then walked to the door and stood across from Ardelia.

"Yeah, you enjoy pretty boy. I'm gonna curl up with a good book."

Ardelia countered, "You need to curl yourself up with a good man,"

Leaning on the wall opposite Ardelia, she complained, "Well that's easy for you to say. They are lining up around the block for you. Men haven't exactly been beating my door down."

"Well hey I'm not Hannibal Lecter's lady! They aren't scared any of my past romances are going to sauté their brains with some shallots and cumin!"

"Very funny!"

"I kid because I love! Seriously…try to get out. It's depressing that you go to work and come straight home and bury your head in books. You need to get you a man!"

"Yeah, I know. I'll try. Good night, Dee. Enjoy your date."

"Goodnight, Clarice. Go find a guy and work up a good sweat, will you!"

The moment Ardelia turned the deadbolt to the outer door, Clarice turned her attention to a hot shower followed by a light dinner and an early bedtime. Hannibal was her man. She decided as much and if she couldn't see him tonight, she hoped he would find her in her dreams.

* * *

><p>As Clarice walked into her bathroom and reached through the shower curtain to start the water, a shiver ran up her spine. She stopped in her tracks and listened intently, certain that she heard some kind of movement. "What the hell was that?"<p>

She left the bathroom and slipped quietly into her bedroom.

* * *

><p>Hannibal had little difficulty bridging the security of Clarice's duplex. He had gotten in and out of far more secure buildings so this proved no match to his stealth or his lock picking skills.<p>

Hannibal entered via the rear door an hour earlier. He moved through the kitchen and living room and swiftly bounded the stairs to her bedroom on the second floor. He knew from his months of surveillance that she would enter her bedroom soon after returning home. He prepared for her arrival by settling into a comfy overstuffed chair in the corner next to the window. He angled the chair to allow the light to strategically silhouette his form and ensure that he would be noticed immediately.

Knowing that it was her custom to shower again after her shift, he did not want to chance that she would begin to undress assuming that she was alone. Not that the prospect would be unappealing- quite the opposite but it would be exceedingly impolite and that just wouldn't do.

He sat in the chair and waited.

* * *

><p>Clarice crossed the threshold and immediately noticed the form of a man sitting in the dark and raised her service weapon.<p>

"Would you shoot first and ask questions later, Clarice? A dead man in your bedroom might be troublesome to explain-especially this particular man."

Clarice lowered her weapon and flipped the light switch revealing Hannibal Lecter sitting, legs crossed and _hands_ steepled, quietly tapping is fingers to his lips.

"Well, Hello Clarice." He hissed from the darkness.

**Until the next chapter, my friends!  
><strong>

**LH**


	7. Chapter 7

**I AM YOURS…**

"Hello, Dr. Lecter."

Hannibal Lecter sat in the darkness, unnaturally still. His voice seemed to float from the shadows, "You are very calm, Clarice. You don't seem surprised to see me."

Clarice reached back for the bureau to steady her legs, trembling now that she was confronted by the situation she hoped for, but didn't dare to expect.

"No, I'm not. Actually I had hoped…"

_Hoped? No, don't tell him you hoped…tell him…tell him…_

She regrouped, "I expected you would show yourself much sooner."

The word _hoped,_ and her desire to cover up that intention, was not wasted on Hannibal.

"It has been my most fervent desire, though before today, it would not have been prudent."

Clarice shifted, uncomfortably aware of her body, "No. I suppose not."

His voice was relaxed and smoother than she remembered. In the dungeon, he rarely spoke. The tone was raspy from disuse. Not now. Now, she thought, he must be well rested, content even. He was free. She liked him that way.

His eyes fixed, intense, though he wanted to be much more direct in his inquiry, Hannibal skirted the issue, watching Clarice for any reaction that might reveal her intention.

"As I said, I would have appeared much sooner, but it was necessary to wait until the injury to my hand became less conspicuous. One cannot be too sure."

Clarice nodded, providing little insight into the situation. Lifting her left hand, she rotated her wrist, an indication of his injury.

"I'm glad to see you were able to have your hand repaired. I wondered what treatment you would be able to arrange on such short notice. Or, should I say, what treatment Barney was able to arrange. Do you have full use?"

_Clarice, my clever girl…_

"Yes, for the most part I have recovered full use. Though there is minor residual numbness, it has not had impaired my abilities, and, it is true, Barney was instrumental in my recovery. He has been an exceptionally dedicated and loyal friend."

_Why didn't you seek him out, Clarice? The home was placed in his name hoping to bring you to me._

Clarice was nervous. She could see his eyes glowing from the shadows and wanted to rush to him, but she was unsure if the passage of time had altered his intentions. Instead, steeling her resolve, she gripped the edge of the furniture to anchor her. Her knuckles whitened as she fought to maintain her distance, unaware he waged the same war within.

"That level of dedication is hard to come by. I'm sure you value his friendship."

His small white teeth flashing a salacious smile, Hannibal flirted, "I value you as well, Clarice, but for entirely different reasons."

"Your reasons don't concern me Doctor. Don't you think it's a bit dangerous for you to return to this area? They don't think I've noticed but they have been following me for months. They are assuming that you will eventually turn up."

Unable to maintain the space between them, Clarice crossed the room and sat on the bed. Her proximity enticed him. Lecter shifted his position in the chair, leaned forward and inhaled her scent, then continued.

"I know. I've seen them. They are pathetic. Seriously Clarice, it is a wonder they catch anyone. As to the timing of my return, actually, I never left. I find that it is not difficult for a man my age to avoid detection. Hiding in plain site can be an equally effective strategy. As long as I have contact lenses in place I find that I can move quietly through my day and people look right past me."

Sitting no more that two feet from Hannibal, Clarice picked up the scent of his cologne. It was not like anything she'd smelled before. It was rich, spicy, most likely a custom blend. She began bending toward him and wondered what it would feel like to drag her nose along his neck and breathe his scent. Her body warmed at the core, imagining.

"Very daring, Doctor, I'm impressed."

Hannibal's nostrils flared as well. She was alert, aroused; the changes in her scent would have been imperceptible to other men, but to Hannibal her body screamed to be held. Though it required discipline, he maintained his self-control.

"I have been concerned that the conditions of my escape might have left you in a compromising position with your superiors. Before I leave town, I wanted to see if there was anything I could do to help."

Forgetting her body language, she reached for her pillow and hugged it to her chest hoping to still the pounding of her heart within her ribs. She ached to touch him.

"Wanted to watch me squirm again did you?"

"No, that is not it at all. Rather I feel responsible. The embarrassment of Krendler and Verger in bed together, so to speak, probably ensures that they will not release you, but I assume you now recognize they will never ever let you rise above your current rating. The advancement that was once so important to you is now quite beyond your reach."

Rocking slightly, more from impatience than agitation, she answered, "I'm aware of that, Dr. Lecter."

Hannibal sat quietly, attempting to discern her motivations as he watched her body sway toward him. The movement forcing bursts of her scent in his direction, he closed his eyes for a moment, inhaling the aroma that turned within his nostrils, intoxicating him. More than he had ever wanted anything before, he wanted Clarice and found himself hoping she might be frustrated enough with her current condition to consider leaving with him.

"If you are aware of your circumstances why do you stay? What possible benefit can you derive?"

Removing the pillow from her lap and stuffing it behind her, Clarice allowed anger to seep into her tone.

"I have limited options thanks to you, I'm not exactly an attractive hire at this point. The F.B.I. will keep me on because they cannot prove that I had anything to do with the Krendler situation or your eventual escape. It doesn't hurt that they also believe that I will either directly or indirectly lead them to you."

_She's clearly frustrated, frustrated with her career, with her love life perhaps, and she's comfortable in my presence, ready, perhaps._

"How can you say that you have limited options? The world is yours for the taking Clarice."

_I am yours…_

She paused for a moment, staring into his eyes as if his thoughts were revealing themselves in her mind.

He watched her eyes as well. They were clear, thinking, assessing her circumstances. She was so much more than any woman he had ever encountered. She followed her instincts but led with her mind, not with her heart. Forgetting that earlier, he pled his case to her heart with the limited time he had before fleeing Paul Krendler's kitchen. He should have known she wouldn't run off on a romantic whim. It would take a dispassionate argument and he was prepared to plead his case, unless, of course, due to their long separation, passion prevailed.

Right now, Clarice focused on her circumstances, relegation her constant companion.

"Don't be ridiculous. This is where I am and this is where I'll stay. I don't pretend that it's a perfect situation but it's all I have and there is no sense crying about it. If this is where I'm destined to be I might as well accept it."

Hannibal shifted in the chair, his body's response to Clarice making it difficult to sit comfortably. He tugged on his trousers at each knee, attempting to loosen the fabric stretching uncomfortably, to allow himself a bit more room. He spoke as he adjusted his clothing, sounding bored with the topic.

Clarice's eyes shifted to his movements.

"Please make an effort not to be tedious, Clarice, it can be quite exhausting. One would assume that a woman of your intellect would have molted those Protestant sensibilities by now. Really I would think based on your life experience you would be much more evolved. Surely you realize that there is no God in his heaven planning your life. You alone are in control of your destiny and you alone must decide your fate. Life is neither good nor evil it is neither black nor white."

"There's nothing to decide. It is what it is. This is what I'm meant to be. This is all I'll ever do."

"Nothing is _meant_ to be. Shall I share something with you, something that I have never told a single soul? In my youth I spent many years on my knees searching for answers Clarice."

"Were you raised with any particular religion, Dr. Lecter?"

"I was born in Lithuania, a predominantly Catholic area of the world and my mother was a noble woman of Italian birth, also a Catholic region. I was baptized and had just received my First Holy Communion, body of Christ and all that, when the war broke out. My parents died very soon after that point, so my religious education was halted abruptly. I was never Confirmed. Why do you ask?"

"I'm just really curious about you, Doctor Lecter, and you brought up religion…"

Hannibal's head tipped his upward, deep in thought.

"Religion… Karl Marx once called religion the opium of the people."

Leaning closer still, Clarice remarked, "I remember that quote differently."

"Though I am often pleased with your contextual intelligence, Clarice, trust that my interpretation is the more accurate and scholarly translation."

She laughed, "I'll just have to trust you on that. You were about to say something Doctor. Please continue."

Hannibal leaned forward and extended his hands to Clarice. He was pleased when she took them in hers without hesitation.

"I was about to say that I understand loss. I myself have cried to the heavens looking for solace, Clarice. Does that surprise you?"

"Everything about you surprises me, Doctor."

She looked at their joined hands, his thumbs continually stroking her skin. Glancing up, she noticed his eyes were focused on the joining.

"I cried out to heaven in vain to help me protect my sister. My parents were dead and I wanted to save what little was left of my family. I prayed until my voice rasped and my knees bled and still she was taken from me. She was all I had left in the world. That was the night that God died for me."

Clarice watched his hand stroking hers. He was revealing such personal angst and yet there was little emotion in his voice and it was his touch that was a comfort to her.

"Who took her? What did they do to her?"

Hannibal squeezed her hand, not as if gathering courage but more to solidify his intent to share his past; to speak words that had forever gone unspoken.

"The Hilfswillege… Nazi collaborators, the Lithuanian swine tore her from my arms and dragged her away as she screamed my name. I fought with all the strength I had in me but I was far too small and too weakened from lack of food to save her. So you see, you are not the only one to awake in the dark to awful screams in the night. Still, to this day, occasionally terror grips me in my sleep."

Clarice gave his hands a gentle squeeze in return. As the pressure increased, he looked up and smiled slightly. She smiled in return. They were both orphans. They both understood that pain. She needed to know more of the story; she wanted to know more of him.

"Why would they take her?"

He placed her hands on her lap and reached for her legs, resting his palms on her kneecaps, he stroked her knees with his thumbs as he had her hands just moments before. He was leaning closer now with their heads low as if they were sharing confession, though she couldn't decide if he were indeed seeking absolution.

"Because they were hungry and all of the indigenous food sources had been exhausted. They crushed the back of her head with an axe and cooked her in her own copper bathtub. They fought like rabid dogs over the tiny scraps of meat her body yielded."

Shocked, Clarice covered his hands with her own, stilling them. She angled her head seeking his eyes.

"You watched? They let you see all of that?"

Hannibal looked up. His eyes were so neutral. There was no anguish. No sign of emotional pain. He replied with no hint of sorrow.

"War is brutality, Clarice. There is little room for sentiment."

Edging closer, so much so that she was almost off the bed, she pursued, "Why did you _watch_? You could've turned your head? You could've closed your eyes?"

A sigh as he responded, "And she would have been just as dead. As her brother, it was my duty to bear witness just as it was my honor to share her final moment, to be certain my face was the last she saw before the light left her eyes. A face expressing not fear, but filled only with love for her. I hope there was some comfort for her in that."

Clarice's eyes welled, spilling over as she spoke softy.

"I'm certain there was…I'm so sorry, Dr. Lecter."

"There is no need. Every life is touched by tragedy, mine as well as yours."

"How did you survive?"

Hannibal stood and gestured to the bed, asking for permission to sit beside her. She patted her hand on the mattress, giving her consent. Taking his place beside her, Hannibal leaned his shoulder against hers as he explained.

"I was chained by my neck to prevent my escape. No doubt, had the cabin not been bombed, I would have been next on the menu. Being restrained, however, inhibited my ability to scavenge for myself so I ate nothing most days... two or three days after they murdered Mischa they gave me a bowl of broth. Starving, I drank it down before they could take it back. Later I discovered that I had consumed the rendered leftovers from the copper tub."

Without a thought as to what it might imply, shocked, Clarice gripped his thigh. Hannibal looked at her hand, but drew little attention to it, though he was surprised at the increase in his heart rate.

"Oh my God, that must have been horrific."

"Trust me Clarice, God had little to do with it. So, my first experience with cannibalism was drinking the life force of my own sister."

Her hand smoothed over his thigh squeezing it gently as she asked, "How old were you?"

He placed his hand on hers. Her scent was changing, as was his and the implication of their current placement in the room began to preoccupy his thoughts, though he continued to answer her questions, revealing all.

"This occurred sometime around my eighth birthday. You once asked me if I had the nerve to point my high-powered perception at myself. I assure you, Clarice, I have. Good, bad or indifferent, the events of that time in my life became significant in the development of my psyche."

Clarice was beginning to see a fuller picture of the man sitting beside her. She had been so drawn to him for so many years. There was a depth to him she had not seen in any other man. She was beginning to understand why.

"I can't imagine how you survived that."

"Survival is the most primal of our instincts. I vowed to myself that I would never again be so utterly unprepared…so vulnerable. Therefore I have made every effort to nurture my primal nature."

There were so many questions, so many thoughts running through her head. She needed answers and since he seemed so open to her, so willing to share, she dared to ask.

"Doctor? I want to ask you something…personal, but I don't want to offend you."

"Ask, Clarice. There isn't a thing I will deny. Not to you, not now. Not ever."

He was being genuine, of that she was sure.

_You've got one chance, Clarice. You need just a moment's courage to ask._

She drew in a breath and asked directly, "Is the act of cannibalism a…need for you?"

He smiled. She was trying to determine if he could indeed stop. That was the point to his visit, so he was thrilled with the progress and with the bravery it took for her to ask. He would honor her courage with a direct answer. She deserved it. He hoped, after hearing his response that she might feel inclined to ask for more.

"It is not a specific psychological need or a necessary food source, I assure you, Clarice. It is a choice, not a drive or an impulse. I would describe it as more a means of control and dominance, the ultimate indignation to those who had in some way inflicted damage to someone weaker than themselves or had in some way endangered me."

He watched her expression. She didn't seem repulsed and was in fact nodding in agreement.

_She's making the connections to past and present…she's trying to understand. My brave Clarice._

"The very thought of consuming human flesh would sicken most people."

"The act itself is not aberrant to me. It saved my life and empowered me therefore I do not have the normal societal aversion to the experience. Had I not consumed my own sister…starvation would have consumed me. She saved my life though I was unable to save hers. It took many years to come to terms with that. I don't expect you to come to terms with it now. Just consider the thought that what is taboo for some, is not for others. Cannibalizing my sister saved my life. Her body saved me, that essence of her life is with me to this day. It has been both comfort and curse, Clarice."

Clarice shook her head. It was unbelievable…so unbelievable. How could anyone live with that? How could anyone carry that with them? Words seemed so inadequate. She leaned her head against his shoulder. It was the only thing she could think of that might comfort, but wouldn't offend. His body warmed at the touch.

"I'm so sorry. I…I didn't know."

"No one does. As I said…I have never spoken of it."

"Doctor, you have never volunteered any personal information so why now and why me?"

Hannibal allowed his head to gently settle against hers. He noticed her breathing beginning to align with his.

_We are one…you know it to be true…we are one, Clarice._

"Because Clarice, I felt then, as I am certain you felt when your father was taken from you, that I was alone in the world. I raged and I prayed to God to change my circumstances but there was no answer. No singing flights of seraphim to save me. No chorus from the heavens to perform miracles in my favor. In fact, the silence was deafening."

There was a hollowness forming in her chest, swirling at the very center of her being and she couldn't decide if it was the emptiness in her heart longing for him, or her mourning for that brutalized child within him she wished to console.

"So you concluded that there was no God?"

Hannibal shifted his body slightly away creating just enough separation between them to allow his right arm to reach behind her. He didn't touch her. He simply placed his hand on the mattress behind her, leaning his weight on that arm bringing his body closer to her.

"I concluded that either there is no God, Clarice, or he has little interest in the utter anguish of his minion. There is no 'Master's Voice' taking note. There are no answers forthcoming. You alone must seek your answers. You alone must find your path."

The heat of his body so close to hers, the scent of his cologne, his words so honest, so raw, lowered her defenses, not that they were many. She needed to know his intent. Had time altered or enhanced his feelings, as it had enhanced hers? She probed further. There was nothing to lose.

"Why are you telling me these things, these very personal things when you have never voluntarily offered any information to anyone?"

Hannibal leaned closer still, his nose shifting the curtain of her hair. He nuzzled close, the tip of his nose gently caressing her neck. Breathing heavier now, he whispered in her ear, his voice deep and sultry, "Surely by now you know that you are to not just anyone to me."

He was so close. So intense, she could barely form the word, the one word that would decide all.

"Why?"

"Why indeed Clarice… why, if you were certain that I would go to Barney, did you decide not to follow that lead and pay him a visit?"

"They would have followed me, and if they got to him, they would have you. I couldn't be a part of that. You will never be brought to justice, Dr. Lecter. If they caught you…they wouldn't bring you in. They are all too afraid of you. They have orders to shoot you on sight."

He placed a kiss on her cheek and straightened himself. He would need to see her eyes now.

"Why didn't the F.B.I. include that I had removed my hand to the bulletins announcing my escape?"

"They didn't include it because they didn't know, Dr. Lecter. I didn't include that information in my report."

His heart began to pound against the walls of his chest, a sensation that caught him quite off-guard. Barney was right she _did_ hide the facts of his injury. Dare he hope?

_People will say we're in love._

His voice became uncharacteristically suppliant as he pursued the answer, "_Why, Clarice?"_

She lowered her head and she lowered her voice. This was an admission she could barely justify to herself. Speaking it aloud, putting voice to reason, that was another matter entirely. She summoned herself and spoke her truth.

"I didn't want to insult the honor and _love_ of that sacrifice by having it used against you."

She said it. _Love._ She used the word love describing the motivations of Hannibal Lecter. And he didn't deny it. He didn't challenge that description as he so often challenged her words. Instead, he nodded and smiled.

"You never cease to surprise and amaze me. Though Barney suggested it, I never dared to hope that you would have kept that secret for me. I am truly touched Clarice."

Hannibal Lecter pushed his hands downward on the mattress and rose slowly. He extended his hand, she took it and he stepped back, leading her to stand.

Hannibal allowed no more than three or four inches of air between them. As he closed the distance, Clarice stood perfectly still, paralyzed with anticipation.

"Indulge me, if you would. Allow me to offer that you are not alone, Clarice. I offered this information to you…this very personal information to illustrate that I trust you beyond all others. That I have very significant feelings for you and I dare to hope you feel much the same for me."

He was standing so close. She couldn't think, she could barely breathe.

"How can I be certain that I can trust you?"

He stepped even closer. Their bodies were now inches apart. She stared at his chest, watching his suit jacket expand with each breath. Her pulse pounded in her ears.

His words seemed almost muffled, as if she were listening to him underwater.

He lifted his hand and reached the span between them, allowing the back of his fingers to brush against hers before dropping it back to his side.

"I have come to think of you as family, Clarice and have felt for some time that it is my responsibility to protect you and to care for you. I offered my hand for yours to show you that no matter what the cost, I will always put your safety above my own. What more must I do? Tell me and I shall do it."

Her hand felt the loss of his touch.

"I don't need your protection or your help Dr. Lecter."

_Slowly. I mustn't push too hard. This is a leap of faith. I must allow her to close the distance between us._

"I agree, it is not my protection or my help that you need, Clarice. What you need is my love."

Again, his hand reached for hers. This time instead of brushing his along hers, he used his middle and forefingers to gently lace her fingers within his. He allowed his hand to gently hold hers, their joined hands swaying slightly between them. Clarice gripped his hand tightly, revealing her need to keep him near.

"Do you feel love? After all you have been through are you still capable of that emotion?"

"I feel love very deeply Clarice. Probably more than most men for I have lost more in my life in the name of love than most men, but I do not give that love freely. I am offering you my love...that offer to you should not be taken lightly."

"I'm not taking it lightly. What exactly are you are asking me? Are you asking me to give up everything and to live the rest of my life as a fugitive from justice? What do you offer in return for that sacrifice…putting the gesture of your hand aside?"

He released his hold on her hand. For a moment she feared she might have offended him. That perhaps her questions struck too close to home, but he didn't seem agitated. He was relaxed.

Hannibal reached into his inside suit jacket pocket and pulled out a small satin embroidered drawstring pouch.

_Take nothing from him._

He reached for her hands, placed the object in her open palms and closed her fingers around it. Raising her hands to his lips, he kissed them. When he released her hands, he stepped back and slightly bowed his head, waiting.

Clarice did not have to open it. She could tell immediately…it was Hannibal Lecter's Harpy.

"I don't know what to say to this, Doctor."

"Revenge has been the weapon that I have wielded in the name of love for more than 50 years. I was once asked to lower that weapon for a woman who cared for me, perhaps loved me…but my heart was not hers. Since that time there has been no woman I felt worthy of that sacrifice until you, Clarice. I cannot change my past…only my future."

Clarice clutched the weapon, her knuckles a swirl of reds and yellows from the pressure of her grip.

"What do you _want_ from me?"

His head still bowed, his voice willing her belief, he answered, "I want everything and nothing, Clarice."

The answer disappointed her. Not that she expected declarations of undying love, but she needed more information to make her decision.

"Cryptic as usual."

Hannibal read her disappointment and understood.

"Would you like me to be specific? I want to spend my nights and mornings making love with you, Clarice. I want close my eyes every night with you sleeping in my arms and open them every morning to find you still by my side."

"Tell me about the woman who loved you…your first Love."

"_You_ are my first Love. You are my _only_ Love."

Clarice understood. She felt the same way. She clutched the harpy.

"Then, tell me something about the woman you mentioned earlier. The woman who didn't hold your heart."

Hannibal drew in a deep breath. This was difficult. He was speaking of things he rarely called to mind, as they were inconsequential to him. He had no feelings for that woman. She chose to walk away from him. He was not a man to entertain regrets. He killed. She left. That was all.

"My first kill was for her but it was not because I was in love with her. It was a matter of respect. She was married to my Uncle Robert. I went to live with her after his death- she was publicly insulted by a Vichy butcher though I cut him apart as much for his war activities as for her. I felt affection for her for her many kindnesses to me when I was in need. I was not, however, in love with her."

Clarice looked down at the small pouch holding the harpy she ran a finger over the embroidery. It seemed so surreal. To have gone from hoping to see him, to having him not only with her, but declaring his love. It didn't seem real.

"Do you really love me?"

Hannibal stood across from Clarice; the space between them seemed to close, though neither of the moved.

"Yes. More than I am capable of expressing."

She was processing the situation and knew that honesty would be important if they were to move forward. She needed to know he wouldn't shut down if the situation got stressful or if the topic was something he wanted to avoid. She pressed him further.

"Is there anything you wouldn't tell me?"

His response was immediate and unequivocal.

"Nothing."

_Nothing, huh? Okay, time to tempt fate._

She approached the one topic she thought he might avoid.

"Doctor Lecter, now I know a little about your aunt, and about your sister, but I don't know what it has to do with me. Help me...help me to understand you."

Hannibal paused for a moment. This was bridging territory that his conscious mind had not explored in decades. His memory palace began to unlock and doors that he barely glanced at over the years were creaking open in his mind. He wiped his palm across his brow and stroked his hair back while he processed how to best approach the subject.

Clarice was spellbound.

"Forgive me, Clarice. I have never spoken of this time in my life and, as such, it is…difficult."

"If you'd rather not, I'd understand."

Without further discussion, he began.

"My sister's name was Mischa. You must understand what she meant to me. You must understand how I felt when I had the man that killed her in my hands and at my mercy. He taunted me. He told me that he had not only eaten her…he had fed her to me. I was enraged. I wanted nothing more than to tear his flesh from his bones with my teeth as he had done to her. The woman of whom I spoke asked me to stop. She begged me to let the police have him, that it would prove to her that there was something in me that could still be loved, but all I could see was Mischa. I was blinded by rage. If I had been in love with her, the love would have quelled that rage. I would have…I _could_ have walked away. If I loved her as I love you…that would have been enough."

It was a lot to digest. He was so open and so honest that it was both frightening and disarming. She didn't think she would but she really believed him.

"And you think it would've been different if that had been me?"

"If it were you in her stead, I would have left him to the police. I would have taken you in my arms and never let you go. But for her…I couldn't. I didn't love her enough to…to stop."

_Stop…if you love me you'd stop._

Clarice wondered how long he'd felt this way. She'd been attracted to him from the very beginning and thought he might feel something for her as well, but she didn't dare call it love. Not aloud anyway. Perhaps, she had been so afraid to face it that she was surprised at his willingness to do so.

"It's different with me?"

"Yes, it is different with you…so very, very different with you. _I_ am different with you."

"Different? How?"

"There are times when you look at me and I know you are seeing _me_…seeing Hannibal, the man. There have been other times when you have looked at me and I knew that all you could see was the monster behind the mask. I want to become for you the man I see reflected in your eyes when you let your guard down and you look at me with tenderness. That is the difference. I want you to see only that man, the man who is in love with you. A man you can be in love with."

"I really do want to believe you…I wish I could trust that," she whispered. "You have no idea how much I want to believe you."

Hannibal reached out and brushed his hand from her shoulder down the length of her arm, wanting to reel her in and never let her go.

"I would die before I would hurt you. On my Honor, I give you my word, for your love… I lay my vengeance down like a sword at your feet."

Clarice looked up to see his maroon eyes intense, focused on her reaction.

"Can you just…stop? Is it that easy?"

Hannibal laughed aloud.

His smile caught Clarice so much by surprise that she immediately thought, had she ever heard him laugh before? Had she ever truly seen him smile?

"I'm not supernatural, Clarice. I'm not a mythological figure. I am a man. I don't howl at the moon or walk the world with a wandering bloodlust. All of the years I spent after my first escape I remained dormant. I can stop if I choose to stop."

This wasn't a point to debate it was a point of contention. She needed to be sure.

"You've killed so many."

"You have taken as many lives as I have. Does the badge justify the killings any more or less than the death of my sister justified my so-called crimes in my eyes. Are your victims any less dead than mine? You want to save the world Clarice. Look past the mask and see the man. Protect the world from me Clarice and in turn I will love and protect you from the world until I draw my last breath."

"You never contacted me… I waited…I waited."

"I am so sorry, my Love. Please, know that I was never far from you."

She placed pouch containing the Harpy in his breast pocket holding her hand lovingly against his chest.

"I want you to know that I'm not rejecting you by returning this. I'm returning it because I can't leave you unprotected. I can't declaw you. You're not a house cat. You're a lion."

She reached for his left hand and turned it over, stroking his palm and running her fingertips up his forearm to the site where the blade fell. Clarice caressed the raised keloid, searching the broad and ragged scar clearly delineating where his hand had been severed and reattached. She lifted his arm, raising his wrist to her lips. Bending to him, she kissed the scar.

Hannibal stood quietly in place, leaning into her, their bodies almost touching. He closed his eyes and breathed so deeply that is looked painful, in through his nose and out through his mouth. Seconds passed and still Hannibal did not speak.

Slowly, he moved closer and closer until the full length of their bodies were touching. Still she held his hand. Hannibal continued the deep aching inhalations, shifting his head up and down grazing her face with his cheek, and from side to side around her face, brushing his lips against her neck, all the while, his nostrils flaring to gather in the air. His eyes remained closed.

Clarice had never seen him looking so calm and so vulnerable at the same time. He was completely at ease and was showing an inordinate amount of trust in her. Minutes passed all the while he continued to draw in deep breaths. Finally his eyes opened with the suddenness of a gunshot so much so that Clarice visibly startled.

Seeing her shock, he spoke quietly, so tenderly that it was disconcerting.

"May I ask you a personal question, Clarice?"

"Go, Doctor."

"Are you attracted to me? Do you have any feelings for me? Please do your best to be honest."

_Don't lie to me or I'll know!_

Clarice contemplated the reason why Hannibal had been breathing in so deeply. Knowing that one of his strengths as a predator was his ability to hone his more primal instincts she discerned that he was attempting to assess her level of interest in him by detecting the amount of pheromones in the air.

That was why he was standing so close to her, to initiate a subconscious chemical response to assess possible sexual interest. It was obvious by his question that he already knew the answer. He never asked a question to which he didn't already have the answer. She chose honesty.

"I would be lying to you if I said that I didn't have very complex emotions involving our 'relationship' and yes, I find you attractive. I find you immensely attractive."

He placed his hands on her shoulders and began massaging them, waiting to see if she would shy from the contact. She did not.

Clarice thought to herself that she was alone with a serial killer and probably should have been afraid, but she wasn't. She was curious. He had not been trying to gain her sympathy with the story of his childhood and she didn't feel sympathy. She felt empathy. She ached for the boy he was and wished that she could have comforted him as much as she ached for the man and wished to comfort him now.

Hannibal pulled her toward him very gently, wrapping his arms around her body, pulling her close. He lowered his head, his face an inch or two from hers. He was examining her mouth, the curve of her lips. Desire lit his eyes as he touched the tip of his tongue to his upper lip, and spoke very softly, "Clarice at our last meeting it was rude of me to kiss you without your permission. May I?"

She closed her eyes and breathed deeply.

"Yes…god, yes."

**Until the next chapter, my friends!  
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**LH**


	8. Chapter 8

**I PREFER YOU**

Hannibal pulled his lover into his arms and lowered his sleek head to hers. He was gentle, tentative at first, exploring her mouth with his. Occasionally, he captured her lip with his teeth and tugged gently, before returning to the tender caress of his lips on hers.

For her part, Clarice was shocked by the tenderness of the contact, so soft and gentle. Hannibal moved his tongue across her lips, lingering at the separation, pressing and probing but not entering. Realizing he was not leading, but was instead waiting for her permission, she allowed her lips to part and welcomed his entrance.

Hannibal's hand traveled to her throat, his fingers widely spanning her neck, his thumb supporting her chin, stroking very softly. Skimming his fingertips along her jawline he memorized her bone structure as he cupped her face with his right hand. His left hand traveled over the curves of her body, memorizing the slopes and planes of her frame, riding the high arch of her hip before settling comfortably at the small of her back.

"May I draw you closer to me, Clarice? I've long imagined the sensation and wish to feel how your body fits against mine."

She whispered her assent in his ear, the heat of her breath warming his skin as he gathered her tightly to him. The moment their bodies came together, his muscles flexing as he pressed her form to his, he released a deep hum of satisfaction. Enfolded within his embrace, their bodies comfortably clasped as he swayed with her, again, committing to memory the sensations as his body pressed against hers. Realizing he was aroused, a gasp escaped Clarice's lips.

"It is just as I imagined. We fit quite well, don't you agree, Clarice. It's as if you were made for me, and I you."

"Um-hum, perfect…you're perfect," she purred against his cheek, capturing the meat of his earlobe, gently grinding the flesh between her teeth.

A deep rumble rolled in Hannibal's throat as he repeated her name, grasping her hips, pulling her to him as he groaned his need for her, "Clarice…my Clarice…"

Overwhelmed by her own desire, Clarice's knees weakened at the sound of his rising passion. Feeling the dip, Hannibal pulled her even more tightly to him.

"Feeling faint, my Love? You have that effect on me as well. I am heartened to find you equally stimulated."

She spoke quietly against his cheek, her voice a whisper, "You're so much more than I expected…"

His voice low, he avowed, "You are everything to me, Clarice. You are All."

Years of imagining, waiting, hungry, starved, she grasped for his head and pulled him close pressing his lips tighter to hers.

Hannibal's tongue stroked gently within her mouth, exploring, teasing, dancing, swirling his around hers. His passion was building but not wanting to frighten or offend, he did not give in to his forceful nature. He understood that Clarice Starling was not submissive and any attempt by Hannibal to press his dominance, would be met with equal dominance. Not that he found the prospect displeasing. In fact, quite the opposite, still, he kept his aggression in check. She was not a woman to manhandle. And though he believed she might enjoy a more vigorous approach, he would not make that assumption or act upon it without her prior consent. She was finding her way in all of this and he would allow her that time. Clarice was his love, and he would not misuse her body or in any way abuse her trust.

"You are so soft, Clarice…so very soft and so lovely. I cannot tell you how long I've envisioned this moment. Shall I be bold and wonder aloud if you've rested in the dark in this very room, imagining that your hand was my own as you closed your eyes to thoughts of me?"

_Be bold, Clarice…tell him. Tell him and ask him._

"Yes, I've thought of you…of your hands…your body. Did you think of me, too? Of me…touching you…late at night?"

Remembering long nights more than satisfied to have thoughts of Clarice as his only company, he nipped and tugged at her lips with his teeth, biting gently enough to swell, but not to draw blood. He placed kisses along her jawline and spoke his words even as he mouthed hungrily at her throat.

"Have I thought of your hands, your body on mine? Yes, Clarice…late at night…_every_ night."

Clarice slipped her hands around his neck, gently stroking his hair as she conceded.

"Not _every_ night, Doctor Lecter, you've had lots of lovers, I know."

Hannibal lowered his head, kissing her shoulder, nipping playfully as he considered the impressive musculature of her anterior trapezius muscle. He spoke softly as he placed love bites from the cap of her shoulder up the firm ridge of muscle. His voice rumbled against her ear, vibrating low.

"_Every_ night, Clarice. I want you to know I have taken no one to my bed since that night on the Chesapeake and while it's true, I've had many sexual partners, _you_ are my first lover."

His hunger for her overtaking his patience, Hannibal dragged his teeth along her neck, biting far more aggressively than had been his intention causing her to flinch. Concerned, Hannibal checked the site. No blood, but there was a small welt rising. He kissed the area repeatedly.

"Have I hurt you?"

"Yeah, but in a good way. Don't stop."

Surprised at the pleasure she derived from that brief twinge of pain, Clarice lifted her chin to further expose her throat. She released the slightest whimper as his canine teeth continued to etch thin red lines across her alabaster skin.

Hannibal clutched at her throat, biting gently into her flesh, sucking lightly, livid marks generated by the attention as Hannibal Lecter marked his lover as his own.

"You are mine, Clarice. Now, everyone will see you have a lover who finds you _delicious_."

Clarice clamped her mouth on his throat just above the neckline of his collar, bit down and sucked hard. Holding the pressure steadily, she mouthed at his flesh, raising a deep purple welt as her lover growled his approval. Drawing back to admire the marking, she proudly pronounced, "Now, you're mine, too."

"I've_ been _yours, Clarice, but I'm happy you're now willing to accept me."

Long years of celibacy and their own pent up need for one another crashed around them, driving their heart rates like drumheads as they struggled to express their desire with no more than one lover's lips upon the other.

Clarice, emboldened by her partner's lust, ran her hands up and down his leg from his hips to his thighs teasing the flesh with her fingernails. She tantalized him by rubbing the heels of her palms just outside his groin, pleased at the control he conceded as a soft groan escaped his throat.

He clutched at her body, reaching around her hips to grip her buttocks. He lifted her off the ground and dove with her into the large chair, covering her body with his own as he pulled her legs over his hips and pressed his weight against her.

"Can you feel my need of you, Clarice?"

"Yes…yes, I can feel…all of you."

Hannibal's breath quickened, his heart raced as he kissed her deeply. To Clarice, it seemed so idyllic, then, suddenly and without warning Hannibal lifted his face and pulled back. He was positioned between her legs, poised on his knees in front of her. Seeking closeness, he rested his head on her chest listening to her heart pound against the wall of her ribcage. Closing his eyes he concentrated on the beat of his own heart, manipulating his until their heartbeats aligned, waiting until both returned to a normal rhythm. Hannibal slowed his respirations, waiting this way for several minutes until he forced himself to pull away from her, stood and stepped back from the chair.

Hannibal turned his back to Clarice, his hands firmly clasped behind his back. He would need his mind to be clear, it was by necessity he maintained his distance in order to assert this point.

"Clarice, you have a decision to make and I need to be clear. I want you now, more than I want to draw my next breath but if after tonight you have no intention of sharing your bed with me, I must take my leave of you now. There are limits to my self-control when it comes to you and I have definitely exceeded my capacity in that regard. I want to be with you not only tonight, each and every night hereafter. If you want to be with me as well, I shall stay. If not, you must tell me to go. Now. You alone must decide."

Shocked at the sudden loss of his body, her mind clouded with passion, her lips still swollen, tingling from his touch, she sought his eyes, needing his clarity.

"If I tell you to go, what will you do then?"

He did not turn, nor did he pause as he spoke dispassionately, "I will disappear from your life and it is doubtful we will see each other again. Too much has passed between us, Clarice. I would not be able to trust myself as a gentleman if we did. It is up to you my Love. I will honor your decision either way."

Clarice stood from the chair and approached Hannibal from behind, slipping her hands under his arms, smoothing them continually across his chest. Feeling the increase in his heart rate, the muscle pounding against his ribs, she rested her cheek on the center of his back, listening to the rhythm of his heart and deepened sound of his breathing.

She spoke her heart, "I want you to stay with me. I _need_ you to stay with me."

"Clarice, not just tonight? Always?"

"Always…"

His shoulders lowered, his ribs collapsing with his deep sigh of relief, he turned within her embrace and scooped Clarice up in his arms.

She smiled as he hefted her against him, his arms and this position, so familiar.

"It's nicer to be carried without a bullet in my body."

Hannibal smiled as he carried her to the bed, placing her gently on her side, "Yes. I prefer the absence of carnivorous boars circling my feet as well."

He deftly placed a knee onto the bed, lifted himself over her and took his place beside her. Removing his shoes, he did the same for Clarice placing tender kisses on the tops of her feet.

"As I have told you before, you have very shapely feet my Love."

Stretching his body, allowing Clarice room to cuddle against him, Hannibal Lecter wrapped his arms around her and pulled his love to him. Enjoying their bodies aligned, he rested quietly, wanting to slow the process. She placed her head on his chest, listening to the sound of his voice rolling within his body as he spoke.

"I want to be the first and last man you ever make love with, as you will be the first and only woman I make love with."

_First man…? How could he know? _

Jealous of the women in his past, she challenged his assertion, "What do you mean, the first woman you make love to? There's no end to the women crawling out from under rocks to discuss your lovemaking prowess. Or are the tabloids, websites, Internet blogs and endless interviews all the figment of deluded and desperate imaginations?"

Hannibal chuckled at the hint of envy in his lover's voice.

"Possessive already, Clarice? No matter, I am possessive of you as well. And yes, I have seen and heard the accounts and they have been, for the most, part accurate. Barney has teased me to no end about it. Some women are not as modest as you, Clarice. I stand by my statement. I have had sex with many, many women but I most certainly never made love to a single one of them. Sex and lovemaking have little in common. Sex has been, for me at least, recreational and honestly also something of an experiment."

"What do you mean by that? What kind of an experiment?"

"Simply that I enjoy the company of women and to that end, I have made an effort to learn how to physically please them. I can infer from the accounts that I have had some modest success in that area. For my part the physical release was all I have sought. You however are quite dangerous for me, Clarice."

Thinking Hannibal was inferring she might turn him in, she defended vociferously, "I am not!"

He pulled her tightly to him as he explained his meaning.

"Yes you are. With you, I find that I am emotionally out of balance in your presence and that loss of equilibrium makes me vulnerable. I cannot stop the utter onslaught of feelings, the tides of emotions that overwhelm me when you are near. I have had no experience with this level of intensity and therefore have no way to judge whether or not I am prepared for the combination of physical and emotional stimuli. It may, quite frankly, overwhelm me and I find that prospect both exciting and worrisome."

"What do you mean exciting and worrisome?"

"Emotions can be untidy things; my ability to detach has allowed me to elude those entanglements. With you, I cannot detach. For the first time in my life I have absolutely no control over those emotions and as such, I will not be able to avoid those feelings. I am curious to see whether or not this fledgling experience will consume me. As I said, you are the only person on this earth who has the ability to overwhelm and overpower me Clarice. I wonder? Am I equal to the task?"

Clarice pulled her body on top of Hannibal's. As the weight of her body pressed against his she could feel that he was obviously stimulated. In this position, he could not hide his physical response to her. She grinded her hips against his, playfully illustrating her awareness of his hyper-stimulated state.

"If _this_ is any indicator, I'm sure you are _more_ than equal to the task."

Smoothing his hands over her back, settling on her bottom her gripped gently, shifting his hips to one side, denying direct contact.

"My apologies my Love, but a man cannot control certain autonomic responses."

Clarice scooted back over him, not allowing him to shield his arousal from her. She locked eyes with Hannibal his maroon irises seemed to spin around his pupil's like lava emptying into a deep black pool.

"I don't remember asking you to control anything, actually, the opposite is true. Before we…well, I'd like ask you a question about all of the other women? Would you answer, even if it's a little personal?"

"I don't mind if it's personal, but I won't name the women, it would be too indelicate. After all, a gentleman does not kiss and tell."

As he finished the sentence she patted her hand on his chest.

"That's it exactly, it was reported that you never kissed any of them. Is that true?"

Expecting something far more salacious, curious, Hannibal tilted his head at a slight angle and questioned, "Why do you ask?"

Kissing the tip of his nose before responding, she answered, "I was curious. You seem to enjoy kissing and you're very, very good at it. I wondered why you would refrain from something you enjoyed for so long."

Before responding, Hannibal lifted his head and captured her lips, lingering. He answered the moment his lips left hers.

"I enjoy kissing _you_, Clarice because I am in love with you. It isn't something I have shared with casual sexual encounters, as it is far more than a physical expression of affection. More a joining of souls…a melding of the minds, so to speak and as such it is much more intimate than it seems on the surface."

Clarice was less than confident. She had not had a relationship in years and never one of this intensity. Whether it was directly or indirectly Dr. Lecter had seen to that. There were constant jokes that if you took Clarice to dinner, Hannibal would have you for dessert. Needless to say no one asked.

"Yeah, I guess…men haven't exactly been beating down my door, so…"

Seeing her upset Hannibal's lips interrupted her melancholy.

"Until you, I had not found a woman I desired on that level, but I do desire you, Clarice."

Hannibal bent to her lips again and Clarice acquiesced. She sighed and the soft gentle sound drove Hannibal from her lips to search for the soft skin on her neck and up to her ear.

Hannibal whispered, his voice husky and raw, "I promise, Clarice, if you allow me this I will be the most attentive lover you have ever had."

"That won't be difficult." She answered sarcastically.

The edge to her response caught his attention.

"Do you doubt my sincerity or my ability, Clarice?"

Smoothing her fingers across his clavicle she lowered her head, and spoke softly, "I'm sorry. It isn't that at all, it's just that I'm nervous. That was uncalled for but…this is really embarrassing."

Embarrassed? Hannibal was initially confused but processed her reaction quickly. He lifted himself, leaning on his elbow to better she her expression as he questioned.

"Clarice? Forgive me for being so indelicate. As I stated earlier I do have my suspicions, but I would like to hear it from you. Exactly how many men have you taken to your bed?"

Self-conscious, she hedged, "Do you mean this _particular_ bed?"

Hannibal gripped the cap of her shoulder with his left hand and squeezed gently, rubbing his thumb continually over the curve in an effort to calm, and comfort.

"Do not toy with me, you know precisely what I am asking you. Am I your first lover Clarice Starling?"

Burying her face against his chest to avoid the burn of his eyes, she spoke against his body.

"Yes. Yes… you are."

Hannibal kissed the top of her head. He purposely maintained a softened quality to his tone to lessen her anxiety.

"Don't be concerned, Clarice. I had suspected as much."

Her face still pressed against his body she questioned, "How?"

"Barney works at the hospital where you were taken after our encounter. You refused to be tested for rape."

Wondering why he would have made the leap, she responded quickly, "That doesn't prove a thing. I knew you wouldn't rape me."

Hannibal leaned away from Clarice and reached for her chin, lifting her face to his that their eyes might meet. His maroon orbs glowed like blood-red rubies. She couldn't take her eyes off them.

"Of course I wouldn't but _they _didn't know it, Clarice. You could have stopped a great deal of conjecture had you submitted yourself for testing. It was more important in your eyes to protect the knowledge of your chastity than it was to stop any of the innuendo involved with a possible sexual relationship between us."

She attempted to lower her head, but his grip on her chin held her face fast to his. She shifted her eyes, his gaze too intense. Upset, agitated, she argued, "I don't care what they think. I don't have to prove a damned thing to anyone."

Hannibal released her and rolled away, resting on his side with his back to Clarice. "You're correct. You don't have a thing to prove, least of all to me."

She reached for his shoulder and pulled him to face her.

"Please look at me. I need to know if you're angry with me that I'm still…still a …"

_Virgin! What the hell is wrong with me? I'm so mortified I can't even say it! _

"_Virgin_, Clarice. Why do you choke on it so? It isn't profane. Why would that upset me?"

"I don't know. It just seemed like as soon as I confirmed it, you didn't want me anymore."

"Is that what you're thinking? That isn't it at all! I simply don't want to benefit from your vulnerability. It isn't a ring, Clarice. I can't give it back to you if you change your mind."

"I'm an adult. I can make my own decisions. You don't have to patronize me."

Hannibal raised his voice slightly. "I'm not patronizing you!"

There was a flash not of anger but of frustration in Hannibal's crimson eyes and Clarice was taken aback momentarily. Hannibal saw her flinch and reached to hold her. He whispered softly into her ear.

"You don't understand me, please, Clarice, I'm not upset that you…waited. I would have expected no less of you. You are a warrior. You would never succumb to the petty dalliances of lesser men and I would like to think you were waiting for me. Trust me when I say that I would be honored, so very honored but if I am to have you tonight, Clarice, if we are to share this together, understand that it must be the first of many nights. I am far too territorial for it to be any different. I will not share you. You have to be certain that I am the man you want to spend the rest of your life with."

Clarice placed her head on his chest once more. His heartbeat, so strong, so steady, comforted her.

"I'm sure, more sure than I've ever been because I _was_ waiting for you. From our very first moments together all those years ago, you were imprisoned but I was captive. It _is_ you. It has _always_ been you."

Hannibal kissed the top of her head then rolled her from his body, facing her.

"It was much the same for me, Clarice. You have haunted my dreams…you are the only woman I have ever truly desired…now…your decision... Yes or no, Clarice?"

"Yes…Yes."

Hannibal reached for her waist, released the button on her jeans and lowered the zipper. He raised himself onto his knees and tugged gently as Clarice raised her hips to allow him easement. Slipping his hands over her hips, sliding them between her skin and the garment he smoothly guided the fabric down her legs and bending each, coaxed them from the jeans. Placing the clothing to the side, he kissed her knees and gently lowered each leg to the bed.

Next, her blouse, as Hannibal released the fabric and placed tender kisses on the exposed flesh. Opening the garment he slipped her arms out, kissing her collarbone and neck, teasing alternately with tiny bites. His lips at her pulse point confirmed to him the heightening of her heart rate.

Hannibal sat back on the bed and leaned against the headboard, still fully clothed, he granted himself a moment to admire her body, but, Clarice, in her undergarments alone, looked away.

Reaching for her chin, Hannibal redirected her eyes to his.

"Please, stay with me, Clarice. There is no shame in this."

Her eyes remained lowered.

"I'm not ashamed…I'm…"

"Are you feeling vulnerable, my Love? There is no need. You have nothing to hide from me. You have nothing to fear. Look in to my eyes and you will see only my love for you. Never turn from that."

Hannibal slipped his hands around her back and removed her bra. His heart raced as her breasts gently bobbed free, peaking from the chilly night air blowing in from the open window.

"You are magnificent, Clarice. You rival Venus."

"You've seen it before, Doctor."

"In a clinical setting, yes, but as your surgeon I would never allow myself the luxury of lingering over your form. I assure you, as you suspected I did not linger and though it was more difficult than I can tell you, I was a consummate professional. However, I will spend this entire night lingering over every luscious inch of your body, I assure you."

Hannibal loved foreplay as the teasing aspect sated his sadistic side in a socially acceptable way. Coaxing women to the cliffs of their ecstasy and drawing them back stalling the attainment of it? That was delicious to him. He whispered his warm breath across her stomach and trailed his tongue across her hypersensitive skin.

Clarice reached for his shoulders and pulled Hannibal to her.

"I want to feel you, on top of me."

"You are far too petite, Clarice. It may be uncomfortable."

"I can handle it."

"Yes, of that I am certain."

Hannibal wanted nothing more than to oblige her every want. He lay his body over hers, planking with his elbows so as not to weigh too heavily on her small frame. He began to kiss her neck, trailing down her breasts, reaching her stomach tracing his tongue along her abdomen, drawing with his moisture the outline of her toned physique.

He slipped his hands beneath her undergarment and dragged them slowly down the length of her legs gently lifting each knee as he moved the fabric. Hannibal traced a finger along her leg as he liberated her from the last bit material preserving her modesty. Demurely she turned her legs over, closing them to him.

Hannibal was touched by this shyness and not wanting to overwhelm her began to place tender kisses along her abdomen. He reached up, rolling his palms over the peaks of her breasts, his body afire from the heat of her flesh. She moaned softly and arched her back to further his touch.

"More, Clarice?"

Breathless, she whispered. "Yes...more."

Hannibal continued to move downward. Clarice's face flushed when she realized he would not stop at her abdomen. He traced his hands lower and slipped his right hand between her legs, lifting and gently separating them. A deep sharp inhalation and her breathing caught in her throat. She didn't notice the trapped inhalation. Hannibal did and it made him burn for her.

His hand drifted below, his mouth following, searching her tender flesh. He could hear the exhalation easing from her body as she acquiesced to his touch. Hannibal lapped gently at her skin, making it wet and slick to his touch all the while, his fingers rolled over her, searching her pleasure.

Clarice shifted against his hand, allowing access to him that would have shocked her only moments prior. His gentle but insistent probing caused Clarice's breathing to shallow and quicken.

As her passion built, Clarice clawed for Hannibal's shoulders. Her sensitivity caused her ecstasy to peak too fast. Hannibal wanted her arousal to build slowly so that her orgasm would be stronger. He moved from the heat of the flesh between her legs and nipped at the soft skin on the inside of her thigh.

Clarice moaned her disapproval. She reached for his shoulders. "Don't stop now…please…more."

"You would like more of what, my Love? Be specific. I need to learn what pleases you."

"Your mouth…again…please."

"My pleasure, you are delicious. Is this your first experience with this kind of intimacy, Clarice?"

"It's… my first… everything…please…please…Doctor…no talking…not now."

"As you wish," Hannibal cocked his head to the side and smiled shamelessly as he ran his tongue across his lips still moist from his attention to her. "…I live to serve."

As he lowered his head Clarice captured it in her hands, running her fingers through his hair, raking and stroking it.

Aware that Clarice was now comfortable, Hannibal allowed slightly more of his aggressive nature to show through. Reaching for her knees, he separated them forcefully, though not painfully so, further exposing her to him. He breathed deeply gathering her scent then, with the speed and agility of a lion capturing its prey moved to again claim her with his mouth.

Clarice gripped fistfuls of the bed linens, and writhing to his touch, sighed her approval. Hannibal aggressively returned to that which had driven her arousal. She sighed in pleasure as his teeth nipped at his target, teasing at the flesh, now swollen with desire.

Hannibal was equally aroused and began to hum his pleasure within her as his mouth sought her release, the warm and deep vocal tones of his passion vibrated across her skin, heightening the pleasure for both.

Clarice squirmed under his touch, the airy sounds of her satisfaction encouraged his efforts as his lips and tongue moved over her body tasting her, drinking her.

Seeing to better his position, Hannibal rose up onto his knees as if praying and slipped his hands under Clarice's body. He lifted her hips and pulled her until the small of her back settled on his thighs. All the while nipping and teasing at the tender flesh between her legs, covering her as he mouthed hungrily at the most sensitive parts of her body.

Clarice lifted her hips to meet him, soft sounds of pleasure gently flowing from her as he gripped her bottom, holding her close to his face. Pausing a moment, he inhaled deeply, his chest expanding, his nostrils flaring to gather her scent.

"You're luscious, Clarice. So open to me, your scent is so lovely…"

He allowed his voice to trail off as he rubbed his cheek along her thigh, inhaling.

"It's not l'air du temp, if you're curious."

"Not your perfume, Clarice, your personal scent. Your arousal, like my own is thick in the air. As the scents blend, the combination is dizzying and your taste is…irresistible."

He lowered his head once more and stroked his tongue in long, gentle sweeping motions, tasting.

Her body tightened, her hips bucked reflexively from the sensitivity he created as his tongue passed continually over her hypersensitive flesh. He lifted his face, encouraging her passion as he clutched at her thighs, biting the soft muscles of her inner thigh.

"Relax, enjoy, my Love. Sing to me."

Listening intently to the patterns of her breathing as she sang her passion to him in soothing sighs and gentle moans, he made a mental note of the areas where he judged she was the most responsive to his touch. Hannibal lowered his head and coaxed her to her ecstasy. Before long he could feel those attentions overwhelm Clarice.

Hannibal's arousal was equally evident to Clarice as he pressed himself against her body. Wanting to maximize her pleasure, he reached for her breasts, the peaks tightening from his touch. Hannibal slowly increased the pressure as he pinched and rolled the stiffened tips.

"Pain and pleasure, Clarice, yes? You feel my tenderness, but you long for that sting, that edge. You are a warrior, you want it all, don't you, Clarice. Pleasure and pain, you hunger for both? You want everything from me, as much as I long for the same from you."

She writhed against his body, hers tensing, shifting to his touch, his taste.

She gasped, "Yes…yes…"

Clarice was breathless, overwhelmed by the flood of pleasure, the waves of passion tumbled over her, sending her body trembling, shaking, quivering against his. She reached for his body, her hand on his chest she could feel his heart pound.

He clutched at her flesh, barely containing his own want, his need evident as he held her tightly to him and rode out the undulating waves of her rapture.

Holding her, slowing his movements as her euphoria subsided, he gently kissed the insides of her thighs, allowing her orgasm to wane. Hannibal slipped her legs over his shoulders and lowered them gently onto the bed. He rested his head on her stomach and listened to her respirations.

She looked down and stroked his hair, sighing with contentment. She pulled him up to face her.

"That was…wonderful," she gushed.

Smiling widely, Hannibal assured, "Trust me, my Love, it gets better."

Hannibal kissed her tenderly then rose to sit at the edge of the bed. Clarice watched as he removed his shirt, reaching up, trailing her fingers through the greying hair on his chest.

When he reached for his belt, she stopped him.

"No, it's my turn to please you."

"You have already pleased me to no end, Clarice."

Smiling, she reached around him and unbuckled his belt pulling it through the loops and tossing it onto the chair across the room.

Hannibal stood up from the bed and Clarice sat on the edge in front of him.

"Clarice?"

"No questions…my turn."

She reached for his trousers slowly drawing the zipper down as she tugged slightly forward, careful not to catch his erection in the teeth of the zipper. Standing from the bed, she opened the clasp of his slacks and slid the fabric over his hips, bending low to allow him to step out of the garment. Tossing his trousers to the side, she paused before reaching for his boxers.

"You're the expert. Is there anything I should know? This is all new to me."

"Only that I was not born in this country, Clarice and as such I am uncircumcised. I hope that it does not put you off. Some women prefer a cut man."

Clarice reached for his silk boxers, barely containing him and, no longer embarrassed by their intimacy slipped the silken fabric down his leg, releasing him. Boldly, she regarded his body, running her hands up and down his chest, to his stomach, brushing her fingers down the length of him. She grasped his body and smiled.

"I prefer you."

**Until the next chapter, my friends!  
>LH<strong>


	9. Chapter 9

**A SAVAGE LIFE**

Hannibal's eyes rolled for a moment, falling closed as Clarice moved her right hand over his body. She traced circles along the crest of his hip, smoothing her palm across his abdomen allowing her fingertips to dance over his muscles, tightening with anticipation. Listening to the ragged edges of his breathing her right hand skimmed lower, the fingernails scraping just below his belly, scratching gently, teasing, smiling as his arousal bucked at the sensation.

Pressing her mouth to Hannibal's, nudging her nose very tenderly alongside his, she whispered against his lips.

"Can I touch you?"

Hannibal's eyes flashed his excitement, his body electrified as he considered telling her exactly what he wanted her to do to him, smiling, thinking it wouldn't shock her even if he could form a coherent sentence, which at this point, he could not.

_You are so unpredictable, so amazing, my Clarice. I am yours…_

His body trembling with anticipation, he struggled.

"Yes."

Clarice took a full step back. She wanted to look at his body, making no secret of her desire as she flirted playfully, "Whenever I want, wherever? No restrictions?"

He was captivated by the purity in her voice and expression, so naive and so honest as she regarded him openly, her attention to his body erotic in its innocence.

"None…none."

His body feeling as if it might burst from the expectation, Hannibal closed his eyes to reduce the visual stimuli. He breathed deeply enjoying the olfactory flood; this room carried so many scents, all of Clarice. He breathed the faint traces of the perfume she put on that morning, and the hint of her aroma on the pillow not more than two feet away. There were invisible signs surrounding him, remnants of her body swirling around him, dizzying him.

Relishing the moment, relaxing, her scent was suddenly enhanced.

_She is closer._

He opened his eyes to find his senses had not failed; Clarice had indeed closed the distance between them. Preoccupied by the proximity of her body as her breasts brushed against his chest, perhaps his heart skipped a beat, though he wasn't certain. All he could feel at that moment was the taut peaks of her breasts tempting his body through the silk of his shirt.

"Clarice…"

He inhaled sharply as she touched a finger to his lips in order to still him. Her voice so appealing she questioned with innocence, "If I did something wrong, you wouldn't worry about my feelings, you'd tell me, right?"

Hannibal lightly lifted her hand to his lips, kissed her palm and guided her hand lower closing it around his arousal. He carefully guided her grip, gently squeezing her fingers closed, helping her to hold him comfortably.

"I'm a man, Clarice. Trust me when I say, it is not complicated."

She grasped his body, following his lead as he moved her hand over him, stroking the length, his body expanding with her touch.

Clarice looked down as her hand moved. She'd imagined what it might be like to touch him, but this was so much more than just touch. It was obvious in his eyes, so clear, so open. Here, now, he was vulnerable and he knew it.

"You ready?" she coaxed. "Seems it to me."

He nodded with uncharacteristic enthusiasm, "Ready…yes…ready."

She continued to kiss his face as she stroked his body slowly, whispering her love.

The sweet sound of her voice, the torrent of sensations flooding his body so overwhelming, Hannibal dropped his head to her shoulder gently mouthing the muscle as he groaned.

"_My Love…_"

Her heart warmed. Realizing he'd been denied human contact for many years she understood, for Hannibal, reaching out must have been incredibly difficult. If it was indeed a calculated risk verses reward scenario, he would see recompense this night. She cupped the back of his head, pulling him close, touching her cheek to his. She could feel the shudder in his shoulders as she continuing whispering in his ear.

"I know…it's okay, I know…"

Her voice so comforting, and her hand…Christ…her hand, his pulse quickened. Wanting to extend the pleasure, he tried to slow his breathing in an attempt to forestall his release, but found self-control elusive. A moment before he would have reached completion, he quickly snatched her forearms by the wrists, pulling her hands away from his body.

The motion so sudden and so unexpected, Clarice was naturally confused. Believing she had handled him too roughly, she was immediately penitent.

"I'm sorry, did I hurt you?"

Lowering his head, looking up at her from beneath his brow, Hannibal raised her hands to his face, and tenderly kissed the pulse points on each wrist. His voice was raspy, thick with suppressed desire, as he responded, "No…it was wonderful…_too_ wonderful."

Her cheeks blushing with modesty, she nodded her understanding and smiled. Clarice had been enjoying the sounds of his pleasure, his voice humming low with satisfaction as she fondled him. The feel of his once flaccid flesh responding to her touch, his slowly stiffening member now rigid with want, empowered her. He had encouraged her movements and there was a palpable eagerness between them. Now she wanted nothing more in this world than to once more hear the enthused gasps as he groaned her name, his arousal twitching from her touch.

"Doctor, please…I want your body back."

Still holding her hands as his erection pressed against between them, his excitement still more than obvious, Hannibal questioned, "From your research, you know quite a lot about me, yes?"

What was he up to? What was he getting at? Hannibal was volatile enough in daily life, but here she believed him even more unpredictable. This was something she consciously avoided. His sex life, aside from Logan's input, had been a mystery to her. It was a mystery she now wanted to solve.

"Yeah, sure. Why?"

Pressing her hands to his lips, he placed tender kisses on the bend of each finger, and unable to resist the temptation to taste her flesh, briefly nibbled and sucked the knuckles of each index finger.

Explaining calmly he stated, "I wish to be certain you will understand what I'm about to do."

Wanting to illustrate the true effect she was having, he placed her hands, palms open on his body, flattening them on the center of his chest.

"Can you feel my heart pounding out my passion for you. Clarice? Do you sense my need? If you know me well, what am I illustrating?"

Her eyes searched his as his heart punched against her palms. Suddenly, she had the answer.

_His pulse never got above 85...Even when he ate her tongue._

"Your heart, I know, I felt it earlier and it actually worried me. It's beating so fast. Why?"

Taking a step closer, her hands still pressed to his chest, now trapped between their bodies, he stroked his cheek against hers, breathing deeply as he chased his calm. When, finally, his heart rate slowed, he spoke against her ear.

"You have that effect on me, Clarice. I cannot control my body in your presence. It is as exhilarating as it is disconcerting. We've only just begun and yet, I have little restraint."

Kissing his chest, she patted her hands to comfort him, counseling, "You don't need to restrain yourself. You need to trust and let go."

Hannibal leaned closer, touching his forehead to hers. This level of intimacy wasn't easy for him, but for Clarice, he would make the attempt, to give her what she needed to open her heart and her life to him. She needed honesty. That, he could provide.

"Clarice, I'm sure you can appreciate that for me, trust is…difficult."

"Yeah, I can imagine, this is hard for me, too."

Seeing an opportunity for levity, Hannibal looked down at his groin, back up to Clarice, and winked.

"Yes, it is…_very_."

Laughing at his irreverence, she slapped him playfully, "Don't be such a wiseass!"

Amused by her boldness Hannibal gathered her close, nipping at her ear as he hissed, "Heaven forbid."

Clarice playfully shoved Hannibal's shoulders tipping his body slightly. As the backs of his legs hit the mattress, he pinwheeled his arms pretended to be unbalanced. His body bending toward the bed, he clawed at the air and allowed himself to begin falling to the bed, but just as he tipped past level, he grasped Clarice's arms and pulled her down with him. They rested on their backs, side by side for a minute, maybe two, Clarice laughing and Hannibal grinning widely. Finally, Hannibal's lips curled into a mischievous smile as he reached for her shoulder and rolled, pulling her atop his body. Gripping her bottom he squeezed her cheeks and winked.

"So, Clarice, do you want to play doctor?"

Straddling his body she pressed her palms against his chest, posting up to see him better.

"Hell, yes, but shouldn't our positions be reversed? I mean, you're the one who knows what you're doing."

"It is your first time, Clarice. I want you to have all of the control, to help you relax."

Clarice leaned forward, jostling his shoulders. Hannibal hummed as her movements caused her breasts to sway.

"You want me relaxed? Kiss me."

He pulled her to him, clutching her shoulders, roughly seeking her mouth. Their lips touched, teasing, testing, long, deep, slow kisses as their hands moved across one another, searching and discovering…learning.

Hands consistently moving, Clarice was bold in her exploration of Hannibal's body, massaging his muscles deceptively strong for his size. She passed her fingertips over his ribs, her hand falling over the ridged scar where Will Graham drove the bundle of arrows into his side. Her hands skimmed over his flesh, finding the site where the bullets struck that finally felled him.

Bumping her fingers over each mutilation as if reading braille, she commented, "Your body tells a hell of a story."

Hannibal stroked her arms from the shoulders to her elbows, dancing his fingers across her flesh. He rolled his thumbs in the crooks of her elbow palpating the intersection of her radial, ulnar and brachial arteries. Her pulse was strong, steady.

"What does it tell you, my Love?"

There was no pause as she stated with just the slightest a hint of melancholy as she traced her fingers over the scars, delineating the ridged map that outlined his tumultuous past.

"That you've had a savage life."

He gathered her hands, kissing each and returning them to his chest, the soft hairs tickling her knuckles.

"Your experiences have been similar I am sorry to say. I wish I could have spared you some of that."

She bent her body, arching her back, lowering her head to kiss the scars. One by one and with every kiss she placed on his body she vowed to him that he would be scarred no more.

Stroking her thighs, tight to his, everything about her was exciting to him. The full length of her warm body against his, her hands brushing his flesh, pausing to knead his muscles massaging the stress from his body, all this was exciting and new but the most stimulating thing about making love with Clarice was her curiosity. How she searched his body with such innocence and tenderness. Her continued touch was more than he could take.

"I…I need you now, please…Clarice."

Hannibal Lecter waited as long as he was capable; his need for her was now primal, urgent. His heart thumped in his chest, his body desperate for the relief she would bring. The relief he wished to bring her once more. He gripped her hips, squeezing, rocking her toward him.

Playful to this point, for some reason, she hesitated, "I'm not really…ready to…"

Hannibal's nostrils flared, gathering her scent, now as heavy in the air as his own.

"Your body is as ready for me as mine is for you, Clarice."

She was nervous, inexperienced and his body, his size, was cause for her concern.

"You're just…so…I didn't think it would be…so..."

Hannibal's eyebrow arched, processing her confusion, adding to his own.

"I don't understand the hesitation, Clarice. Please, enlighten me."

Clarice shifted her hips, reached down and brushed her fingertips from base to tip, directing his attention to his erection, standing tall between them.

"Your body."

Bewildered, his head angled slightly as he considered her concern, "Yes?"

"It's…more than I anticipated."

Hannibal smiled when he realized to what she was referring.

"Left-handed as it may be I will accept that as the compliment I'm certain it was intended. Trust me it will only be an issue this first time. I will be very still until you are ready. You don't have to worry."

He did not wish to force his will upon her, careful to allow her the time to adjust. Her inexperience reflected a shyness Hannibal found entrancing.

_We could have some fun, Clarice._

"No fear. No worries…just relax, my Love. Move over my body gently, allow yourself the time to get comfortable and we'll start when you're ready."

It took Clarice a moment to acclimate to being in control of the process. She allowed her body to move over his. Hannibal groaned as her channel gently cradled him. As she moved, his hardness moved within, stopping short of penetration. Any nervousness soon melted away as her lover repeated her name, over and over again.

"Clarice…Clarice, my love, my life," Hannibal whispered softly in her ear to calm her nerves.

The soothing tone of his voice put her at ease. He grasped her hips and followed her lead, easing against her body gently, the friction causing his hips to buck as she angled too much over his flesh. As much as he was desperate to claim her, he would not enter without her permission.

Clarice moved over him, Hannibal allowing her to acclimate to his body without seeking penetration. He gasped at the sensual chafing as her body rubbed and rocked over his own. His heart pounded as he clenched his abdomen, arching his back and moving his hips to stimulate her without entering. His body slipping against her, tightening his muscles, his legs slightly separated, lifting her with his hips driving forward, his breath ragged as he held off his own pleasure to heighten hers.

"Soon, yes, Clarice?"

"I want to, but I'm not sure. Guide me."

"Your only concern is your own comfort, Clarice. Allow me."

Hannibal slid into position under Clarice and centered himself.

"When you are ready, gently lower yourself. I promise I will not move until you are comfortable. If at any point you wish me to stop, I will."

Hannibal did not look away, his eyes intense as he regarded his lover.

Clarice took a deep breath and nodded to Hannibal.

"I'm ready."

"As you wish, my Love."

Hannibal pulled her hips downward as he very slowly pressed upward, inward, biting his lower lip as the expected barrier gave him pause.

Her head dropping with the discomfort, she moaned softly as her body resisted his entrance.

"Oh, god…Doctor…"

Hannibal slipped his hands over his thighs, riding the crest of her hips he reached for her bottom, clutched, kneading the muscles.

His voice was lush, rich with need.

"A moment's discomfort, Clarice…Tell me what to do."

Looking into his eyes, she gathered her courage.

"Okay, I'm ready…Hurry, hurry…"

Hannibal drew in a deep breath. Clarice was the love of his life, the unreachable ideal. She represented all that was good, and loving and decent in this world. She was perfection, that which could be admired, but never possessed. He had been satisfied to admire her from afar, to follow her life and her career, satisfying himself with a glance, the sound of her voice, a photograph. He wanted more, of course, but that evening on the Chesapeake, when he dared to ask, she was clear. His choices condemned him to a life without her.

_Not in a thousand years…_

When she spoke those five words, the sting of it, the rejection, confused him. Her scent was not one of rejection, but

and she wanted him inside her, now. Soon it would no longer be Hannibal the Cannibal and Special Agent Clarice Starling. Soon it would be Hannibal and Clarice, a couple; they would be joined in his mind, in his heart the moment he would join with her body.

"Yes, my Love."

This was more than he dared to hope for. He sucked in a quick breath, this fast inhalation needed for focus as Hannibal gripped himself at his base and thrust his hips upward, pulling her hips down, gasping as he forcefully ruptured the barrier between them.

Growling as he pressed within, he held her close, unmoving.

Clarice inhaled deeply, releasing a small cry of pain as she felt the flesh release. At the break, a whisper of a sigh, the gentlest moan escaped her mouth as her body sank down, stretching slowly as she opened to him, enveloping his body within her own.

Hannibal Lecter's senses devoured the sound, as that final physical barrier between them gave way, he breathed heavily, holding his body uncommonly still, as did Clarice. They searched each other's eyes, the overwhelming anticipation… the years of want leading to this, their joining, was powerfully significant.

Stillness of mind, body and soul, the pair remained quiet, reverent even, Clarice lowered herself, her torso aligned with his, embracing him. Still internally joined though neither partner moved, if there had been even the slightest shift, Hannibal Lecter's body would have betrayed him as he sought to maintain control. A shudder quaked up his spine causing Hannibal to tremble, biting into his lower lip with such force he drew blood. Exhaling the ragged hitch in his breath, his body seized, his nerves trembling, breath huffing from his nostrils as he struggled to control his lust, shaking almost uncontrollably with the effort to again halt a full release.

Clarice sensed Hannibal's struggle, not only by the physical tension and anxiety, too by the tormented expression on his face. It was unnerving to see the normally restrained man this emotionally expressive and in such obvious distress.

She stroked the hair on his chest. "I'll wait as long as you need me to. Tell me when you're ready."

Hannibal inhaled and exhaled very deeply several times, a full minute passed before he nodded to her.

"When you are comfortable..."

Clarice carefully lowering herself along his length, moving slowly, taking several attempts before she felt ready to accept him fully. Her muscles relaxed, gradually becoming accustomed to his. She pulled at his shoulders and he began moving gently, accepting his body within her own.

Hannibal watched his lover, her clear blue eyes sparkling like sapphires, alive with passion as he matched her movements. His eyes locked on hers, he spoke, his voice encouraging, gentle even.

"Your body…so warm, holding me so tightly within. Are you as happy as I am, Clarice? We are together, now, forever. Did you imagine, as did I, so many years ago that I would hold you in this way? That I would be inside you, filling your body even as you filled my heart? We are joined now. We will never be alone."

She closed her eyes, his voice distracted.

"I hoped…I hoped…"

Hannibal rocked with his lover, pulling her shoulders toward him.

"Clarice, closer…_closer…_your breasts are so lovely. I want to taste them…_"_

For several minutes he kissed them, the skin taut, he mouthed the pebbled flesh, allowing the flesh to tighten against his lips. Capturing a nipple, he bit down gently, as he moved continually within her body until he could hear her breathing quicken. Hannibal matched her pace pulling her to him and meeting her with more urgency now that her end was near.

Hannibal's gaze locked on hers, listening to her breathing, reading her needs as he held off his own. Breathless, she leaned over him, her auburn hair falling around his face like a canopy, in his ear, her breath caressing his neck, she urged.

"Doctor Lecter…Hurry…please…"

"Yes, my Love."

He pulled her hips downward as he thrust upward, repeatedly penetrating her body. He crushed his eyes closed tightly as he repeatedly buried his body deeply within, all the while watching her expression as the waves of passion he set into motion washed over her. Soon her body began to tense and realizing that her climax was near, Hannibal whispered,

"When you come for me, Clarice…Say my name…Call to me my Love."

Clarice reached for him. "I can't…Doc…Doctor…"

He didn't want to hear _Doctor_…he wanted to hear Hannibal, to _be_ Hannibal..._Clarice's_ Hannibal. He sought her eyes, pleading his case. Feeling her body tighten, shaking as the orgasm surged, Clarice's body floated, euphoric.

Her head rolling at the height of her passion, clutched his body within her own, released her hold, grasped his shoulders as she desperately gripping him within as she gave herself fully to him.

Feeling her orgasm bloom, he urged. "My Love, please…Hannibal… my name is Hannibal."

She leaned forward and pulled at his shoulders, her body shuddered with the beginnings of her release.

Forgetting his own pleasure, focusing only on his name, he coaxed her again, "Please… now…my Love… call to me…call to me."

Clutching at his shoulders, gasping for breath as her thighs trembled gripping his body, she could only manage, "I…I…I…can't…breathe…"

Reaching between her legs, he stroked slowly, the flesh slick, swollen, he urged, "My Love… Call to me."

Between each sanguine breath escalating her rapture, matching the rhythm of her exhalations, she called out his name. "Ha…Ha…Ha…Han…Hanni..._Hannibal!_"

It was the first time she had spoken his given name and to hear it upon her lips at that moment of her ecstasy swelled his heart. He burned with desire, his eyes intense and unblinking as he experienced with Clarice, her first orgasm joined with his body.

He memorized each delightfully gripping spasm, the clutching feel of her taut muscles clamping down on him, clutching him within, the muscles grasping his body as she shuddered against him.

"You are so lovely, Clarice. How your face flushes with passion, your eyes burning for me, your body clutching mine. There is only you, Clarice…only you."

Breathless, she could only repeat his name, "Hannibal…Hannibal…" as the afterglow radiated from her center.

He watched the subtle changes, intently memorizing her features as she moved from the heightened intensity and exhilaration of his penetration, to the final shudder of ecstasy as he moved within her. He committed to memory the quiet peace, exhaustion and contentment that made her countenance glow.

Hannibal placed that very precious moment in the room of his memory palace that he had so longed to fill. It was the room that his mind's eye labeled, _My Love_.

Still radiating with the warmth of Hannibal's body within her, Clarice leaned forward rested her forearms on his pectoral muscles and brushed her fingertips across the hair on his chest.

Hannibal smiled. "Clarice… Clarice…You are Beauty."

"And you are my Beast." She said with a wide smile on her face.

Slowly, they began to move together, Hannibal's eyes were closed as he memorized the feel of her body grasping his own. Clarice, now comfortable with her body accepting his, tightened and relaxed her muscles, gripping and releasing, causing a deep groan to escape his lips. Within moments she felt his body tense as his passion began to build.

Wanting to share every moment of this intimacy with him, Clarice reached up and cradled Hannibal's face gently in her cupped hands kissing him lightly on his lips as they moved together. He was balancing dangerously on the edge of his ecstasy, teetering on the brink and his Love, his Clarice was looking into his eyes with love and desire. She bent to him, kissing even as she moved atop his body, accepting all of him.

Leaning over his body as her breasts swayed with her movements rustling the hairs of his chest, Clarice whispered, all the while staring into his flaming maroon eyes, blazing crimson with passion. "I'm here…I'm with you, Hannibal. I'm here and I'm yours…I'll always be yours."

Her words tumbled in his mind.

_She's mine…she's mine…Clarice…Clarice…_

Thought of her love, her want and his need pushed him over the emotional edge though his body was refusing to respond as he willed himself to his own end. Sex he had mastered. Sex he understood, but this? This was new. This was love and love, for Hannibal Lecter, was unchartered territory. He'd never experienced lovemaking. Never felt this joining of the body, the mind _and_ the soul. He found that he was not prepared for the intensity of the experience and Clarice could see that confusion in his eyes. He had given her his mind, he had given her his body, but could he give what was needed for fulfillment? Could he give her his soul?

Hannibal did not close his eyes or look away. Clarice watched in awe as the expression on his face evolved from the tension of his building passion to the intensity of the rapture threatening to overpower him. His body again shuddered violently. Clarice hoped to calm him.

"Hannibal, stay with me…it's okay…it's okay."

His eyes were wild with passion, but tinged with concern.

"It's not…something's wrong…I can't…something's wrong."

It was obvious by the expression on Hannibal's face that he was overwhelmed. He was experiencing a level of emotion that he was unfamiliar with. Hyperventilating, he gasped trying to regain some semblance of control over his body and by extension of the situation.

_People will say we're in love._

Hannibal reached for Clarice, pulling her to him and in a low, husky tone pleads in her ear.

_"Clariiice..."_

He drew out her name as his body trembled. His muscles quivering, he couldn't quell the intensity and refusing to give in to the emotion of the experience, Hannibal tried desperately to rein it in. His brow furrowed, he attempted to focus on his heart rate trying to slow it, on his breathing, trying to steady it, on anything but her body's internal muscles gripping him, stroking him slowly from within.

His discomfort troubled Clarice. She wanted to soothe him, cupping her hands holding his face, looking deeply into his eyes as she moved over him while speaking softly to him.

"Hannibal, you have to give yourself to me. Let go…I need _all_ of you."

Normally a master of self-control he was distressed to find himself unable to alter his physical responses, causing him tremendous anxiety. He _needed _her _now_, more than he had ever needed anyone before, ever, and the thought of it troubled him.

"I'm…trying…"

Hoping to help, Clarice whispered encouragement, rocking on his body, grinding mercilessly against his hips as she drove him deeper within.

He growled, his lips curling, snarling frustration as his release eluded him.

Clarice reached for his hands, placing them on her hips as there bodies crashed together.

"No, you're _not_ trying. You're holding back, afraid to hurt me, but I'm not as delicate as you think. Remember Marcus Aurelius? I know your nature and I'm not afraid of it. Hannibal, remember… you're a lion…"

Clarice leaned over Hannibal and clamped her mouth over his throat. She bit down on his flesh at the point where she raised the welt. The site already tender he flinched when she nicked him with an incisor and drawing blood, sucking at the wound. She leaned back and licked the blood from her lips and urged as she thrust her hips aggressively forward.

"…Now show me your claws."

Hannibal's heart leapt, his passion surged, his eyes flashed blood red as he breached upward and clutched her close. Wrapping his hands through her hair, lacing the locks between his fingers, he gripped two tight fistfuls, pulling her fiercely to him. Hannibal Lecter buried his face in her neck, clashing and raking his teeth along her sweet, soft flesh, biting, licking and sucking, not with enough pressure to fully break the skin but enough to bring forth several deep crimson and violet welts on her throat instinctively continuing to mark her as his own.

Clarice moaned her approval, the sounds of her pleasure driving him to his own. Slowly, a deep primal groan raged up from deep within him like the threatening rumble of an oncoming storm. Rolling upward from his chest, the sound of his passion for her roared from his body as Hannibal Lecter surrendered to Clarice Starling. He gave himself over to her fully, his thundering release more intense than any he had ever experienced, wracking his body, his muscles quaking as he poured every bit of himself, mind, body and soul into her.

Resting quietly, still breathing deeply Hannibal was weakened from exhilaration. Clarice placed tender kisses over his face, watching the evolution of peace alter his expression standing a quiet witness, understanding, realizing the personal significance of that moment; the moment she accepted the love of the man, and put the mask of the monster away. She stayed with her eyes locked to his until his rapture had abated and his breathing returned to normal.

They collapsed into each other's arms and held each other tightly. An uncustomary look of peace moved over his features. Hannibal blinked slowly, surprised when, for the first time in his adult memory, tears spilled over his eyelids and rolled down his cheeks unabated.

"Thank you, Clarice…Thank you."

**Until the next chapter, my friends!  
>LH<strong>


	10. Chapter 10

**ALL OR NOTHING**

Touched by this unabashed display of emotion, Clarice wrapped her arms around her lover, nuzzling her face against his neck as she placed kisses along his throat. She smiled; her lips were buzzing not only from the still present sensation of his kiss, but the energetic tapping of his excited pulse against her lips.

For his part, Hannibal was in no hurry to break this intimate embrace, still clinging to Clarice, his body internally joined with hers. Trembling, overcome by the raw power of the experience he was surprised by the intensity of the emotions churning within as he concentrated on her lips, at his neck, at her legs, wrapped around his thighs. Though her long limbs were now relaxed, falling open as he rested between, his heart thumped heavily as he remembered the way they'd earlier encircled his body, pulling him close even as her hips drove upward, forcing his body deeper within.

They held each other, locked in the embrace of lovers long denied, grasping one another until sleep overcame them. Over the next several hours, the scene played itself out over and over again, until the rays of the morning sun illuminated the room. Hannibal had been awake at least an hour before Clarice, propping himself on an elbow as he watched her sleep, holding onto the question he had longed for so many years to ask. When finally his love opened her eyes and smiled, he wasted no time, kissing her sweetly as she stirred, he whispered against her lips.

"Come away with me, Clarice. Stay with me, forever. Marry me, my Love."

Her eyes barely open, her mind still balancing between sleep and sentience she kissed his abdomen. Returning her cheek to its resting place on his chest centered above the beat of his heart, Clarice whispered in return, "Yes."

That was it. No thinking about it, no considering the situation, no worries. She was in love with Hannibal Lecter and this time, consequences be damned she wouldn't let him go.

* * *

><p>"Will you be back soon?" she asked with no small share of worry as she stroked his cheeks and placed tender kisses on his lips and chin.<p>

Hannibal settled his hands on the small of her back, his digits widely splayed, his thumbs gently stroking along the path of her spine. Within his mind, several paths, too, ran concurrently as he assessed his plan, considering windage, distance, trajectory, and elevation in regards to his chosen location. This was but a mild concern. The major concern was the potential for that which he could not prepare, the possibility of a headshot. The soundtrack to his planning: Barber's Adagio for Strings.

"As soon as I am able, Clarice. There are preparations that must be made if the transition is to be made smoothly, successfully. It isn't enough that you disappear; we'll have to remove all doubt from their minds. They'll never stop looking unless they are convinced there is nothing for which to look. They will have to believe I've killed you, my Love. Then, they will have to kill me."

Panic flooded Clarice.

_How can he be so calm? They'll shoot to kill. There's no way to guarantee…_

"What if something goes wrong? Are you sure? We could just leave…they wouldn't look for long."

Hannibal pulled her tightly to him; their hips pressed together, slightly swaying as he spoke.

"Your so-called friends at the Bureau might not, but your true friend Ardelia will not be as easily dissuaded. We may have to take that into consideration."

He was right. Ardelia would never give up. Not if there was any hope. Hannibal's plan was risky, not for Clarice, she would be safe, but for him…he was risking all, all for her.

"You're right…but you always are, aren't you?"

Hannibal slipped his hand along her neck, cupping her jaw as he stroked his thumb along cheek, kissing the symbol of her courage, the gunpowder imbedded within.

"Always, Clarice."

"Even with an FBI sniper's round headed toward you?"

"Yes, even then, my Love."

She pressed a key into his palm and clasped her hands around his, holding on tight.

"You come back to me…no matter what. Whatever you have to do...however you have to do it, Hannibal, promise that you'll come back to me."

Seeing the concern, the worry for him in her eyes, he touched it forehead to hers and spoke softly, "Nothing will keep me from you, Clarice. That is a promise."

With a kiss, he slipped out the door.

It was difficult for Clarice to watch Hannibal leave the duplex, but if they were to escape together, he had preparations to make. For her part, Clarice would have to return to work. She'd thought about giving notice, but without a good reason it would send red flags and she didn't want the surveillance to increase. Anything out of the ordinary, anything at all, would draw attention.

Hannibal as usual had a much better idea and if his detailed strategy were executed to perfection, if all of the moving pieces aligned and the plan fell into place, it would mean they would no longer be pursued. He would need time to make all the arrangements. She would go on, business as usual.

* * *

><p>Logan bounded into Clarice's basement office, the walls conspicuously barren.<p>

"Dude, where's all the Hannibal evidence? I wanted to bask in the glow, check out the creepy x-rays and stuff."

"They let me keep my job, but they took me off the case, remember? I've been bringing Marsten up to speed. Starting tomorrow, I'm going to be handling trainee paperwork revisions and a few missing person cases."

Logan dropped his head as if he'd just learned his dog died.

"Wow…wow, I'm sorry about that. I know what he means to you. It must bother the crap out of you that someone else is gonna control the investigation. Sorry, Clarice."

"Yeah, well, I don't need to look at pictures of him all day every day. I know what he looks like."

Logan sat on the edge of her desk, obviously thinking. Suddenly he turned, agitated.

"Hey, you didn't give them the letters, did you? I mean those were meant for you, not for Jessica _fucking_ Marsten."

Clarice smiled. Logan was so protective of Hannibal. He couldn't even comprehend anyone investigating Hannibal besides Clarice. It was invasive for him to even consider it. He took offense for the man he'd never even met.

She considered lying, but she was about to involve him in something with far more serious implications than removing a couple of letters from evidence, so the truth was probably not much of an issue. She wagged a finger in faux warning.

"I mailed those to my house, but you don't know a thing about it, do you?"

"No, you know me, Clarice. I think they treated Hannibal like shit, considering all the crimes he helped them solve. They left him with Chilton, tossed him in the dungeon and tossed away the key. I was fucking thrilled when he escaped. He only killed assholes anyway. You think they would have given him a freaking medal for it. Especially that piece of crap Verger. He was molesting kids for years and no one did a damned thing about it. You can take what you want. I wouldn't tell them anything. Ever."

"No…I know you wouldn't, Logan. You're a great friend, to me and to Hannibal."

Logan smiled, "You really think so? Do you think he'd think so, too?"

"Yeah, Logan. I know so."

Logan nodded. He had a look on his face Clarice believed fluctuated somewhere between self-satisfaction and pride. He enjoyed imagining Hannibal might appreciate his friendship. He had no idea that Hannibal would be willing to bet his life on it.

Clarice was a little nervous, but Hannibal had done everything he could from his end. He had purchased a new home, made extensive travel arrangements, moved large sums of money and had alternate identification and citizenship documents forged. Now, it was up to Clarice to seal his fate and arrange for her future husband's death. She drew in a long breath, gathering her nerve as she spoke.

"So, Logan…any new assignments coming up?"

"Dude, yeah, did you hear? They got me on some big deal sniper detail tomorrow night so I guess there'll be tons of paperwork. I know you're not technically supposed to be checking out my paperwork anymore, but I was hoping you wouldn't mind giving my report the once over tomorrow night. I know I'm supposed to be flying solo by now but I'd feel better if you'd check it out. I don't really trust myself yet."

"Sure Logan, no problem." Clarice was busy organizing her files. She would be leaving and although she didn't want to tip them off that it had been a planned exit, she didn't want to leave a mess behind either. "So, what's the big deal? Any clues?"

Logan gripped the edge of the desk and began pressing his arms down, repeatedly lifting and lowering his body, exercising compulsively as she packed. He had far too much energy and Clarice found herself wondering how he was able to stay so still when necessary. Knowing snipers might stay hidden for hours at a time before taking a shot she imagined that was the reason he was so pent up when he wasn't working.

"They won't say who the target is until we get to the site. I'm bringing the M-40A1- it's a couple of pounds lighter than the A3 so I'm trading away a little comfort for some maneuverability."

Trying to sound interested but not inordinately so, she questioned, "Orders?"

Suddenly, his arms seemed heavy, the burden on his mind weighing him down. Looking depressed, Logan settled his body on the desk.

_Suddenly getting serious, Logan? You know what's going on…put the pieces together._

Logan's voice lost its boyish charm. There were no_ 'dudes'_ or '_awesomes'_ coloring this response. He was not himself in this.

"Identify target, shoot on sight. Whoever it is, they're scared shitless. They're not even gonna try and get close. The poor bastard doesn't stand a chance."

Already knowing the answer, Clarice questioned, "Target?"

Logan was thinking and he wasn't happy.

"They won't let us know 'til we get on location. I hope it's not a Lecter thing, though."

_Okay, he's considered the possibility, but what does he think of it? What would he do?_

"Why?"

"Because I suck at paperwork, and I'm really lame at a lot of things, but with that weapon system…I don't miss. Ever."

Clarice cringed at the thought, but she attempted to seem only mildly curious.

"Could you do it, Logan…put a round in Hannibal's head?"

Logan shook his head as if trying to whip the idea from his mind.

"I could…I just don't know if I would. I mean it's kind of disrespectful that the Bureau used him to solve all those cases and didn't give him some kind of immunity or something. I mean he did actually save a lot of lives helping to solve the Buffalo Bill and Tooth Fairy cases. He saved you and you're my buddy! I kind of owe him one for that. Live and let live, you know what I mean. Don't tell anyone I said that, though. I don't want anyone to think I won't follow orders. He's just…different…to me. It would be sacrilegious. Like killing off the last of something, you know…like making something really special, extinct. I don't know if I want to go, I'm really worried it is Lecter. I might just call in sick. Let someone else do their dirty work."

Clarice drew in a long deep breath.

_Okay, balls to the wall…it's all or nothing now. _

"So…can I confide in you, Logan? If it's something _really_ important…even if it's not the most morally upstanding thing in the world, can I trust you?"

Logan jumped to his feet. What ever she was going to say, he knew it would be important. He ran to her, grabbed her shoulders and started shaking her playfully.

"Is it about _Hannibal_? You know something don't you?"

Seeing his reaction, all Clarice could do was smile. Seeing her reaction, Logan went ballistic.

"Oh my god! _You do!_ Did he send you another letter? C'mon, Clarice you're killing me! You can trust me. You _know_ you can."

Clarice grabbed Logan by one of his massive biceps and turned him away from the door. Now huddled with the fanboy trapped in the body of a well-muscled man, she whispered, "Logan, the big deal tomorrow night _is_ Lecter."

"What! Oh my god, dude, _really!" _Logan was almost shaking he was so wracked with excitement, if he had a tail, it would be wagging. Suddenly, he gasped as the realization of what he would be forced to do hit him like a ton of bricks.

"Dude…no…no, not _him_. I _can't_ be known as the guy who killed Hannibal Lecter."

His world came crashing down around him as it dawned what he would have to do. If it was indeed involving Lecter, Logan would have to kill him. Now, Logan was desperate for information.

"Jesus Christ, Clarice, are you sure? How do you know? Who told you?"

She looked him dead in the eye so he understood she wasn't bluffing. She opened her mouth and went all in.

"I know, Logan, because Hannibal Lecter told me."

Logan stared at Clarice, incredulous.

Logan was overwrought, "Dude, that is sooo _not cool._ That's not even a_ little_ bit funny."

Clarice rubbed a consoling hand on Logan's back and could feel he was trembling. Logan was realizing that in twenty-four hours, he was going to be asked to take place a fatal round in the body of a man he considered a god.

"I'm not trying to be funny, Logan. Trust me, it _is_ Hannibal tomorrow and he needs your help."

Logan was visibly upset. "Jesus, Clarice! Stop_ fucking_ with me!"

"I'm _not_ fucking with you, Logan." She walked behind her desk and sat down, assuring, "I'm telling you the truth. Hannibal sent a letter to Pearsall and set the whole thing up, but he needs your help or this won't work."

Logan grabbed a chair and dragged it over to the desk, directly next to Clarice. When he sat, he was so near her chair, their knees were touching as he leaned in close and practically begged, "Dude…when did you talk to him?"

She couldn't believe she was telling him this, but it was her only option to keep Hannibal safe.

"I spoke with him about it yesterday and then again today."

Logan started bouncing up and down on the chair, barely able to keep his voice low, he hushed excitedly, "How did he contact you…double blind… personal ads... over the internet?"

Clarice needed to get Logan's attention and knowing how he felt about Hannibal, being provocative seemed the best way to do it.

"Over dinner last night and then again…"

_I cannot believe I'm actually going to say this…_

She gulped before saying it, then blurted, "…over breakfast this morning."

For a full minute, Logan sat staring ahead slack jawed as he processed what he'd just heard.

Clarice Starling not only _knew_ Hannibal Lecter, not only _spoke_ with Hannibal Lecter; Clarice Starling was _sleeping_ with Hannibal Lecter.

He was hysterical, "Holy shit! Holy shit I knew it! Clarice you _are_ a fucking rock star! Oh my god my buddy is sleeping with Hannibal Lecter. He's great right? Tell me, I won't tell anyone anything, I'll take it to my grave. I'm just dying to know…no details…just…he's a beast, right! I bet he's a fucking beast, right?"

"Okay, okay, calm down. I'm not going to give you any specifics, but…okay, just between you and me, you're right. He's absolutely incredible, I mean, he's better than I could have ever imagined, but that's all the detail you'll get out of me. I told him you would probably be there tomorrow because you're the best sniper in the Bureau. He wants to meet you. There's some information he needs and he wants to ask you a favor…personally."

Logan jumped to his feet and clamped his hands over his mouth, smothering the words so no one could hear him but Clarice.

"Hannibal Lecter knows who I am and he wants to meet me? Fuck me! _I'm_ a goddamned rock star, too!"

Clarice flapped her hands trying to calm him down. He was so excited he was practically bouncing off the walls. Finally, she grabbed him by his shoulders attempting to shake some sense into him.

"Jesus…chill out, Logan. You want to meet him or not?"

"Dude…you _know_ I do! Tell me what I've gotta do."

"You would have to leave with me now. It's not that I don't trust you and don't get offended by this, but I really do love him and I'm not about to take any chance that you might get too excited, slip up in front of the wrong person and spill your guts about this."

"No, I get that. I'm with you. I'll do whatever you need me to do. I just gotta meet him. When? Where?"

"My house, right now. He's making us dinner."

* * *

><p>Hannibal had taken his time over the course of the two months to meticulously plan, organizing each and every arrangement. He had items in place, and established the contact point. He purchased a small boat, and secured the site. He needed only extend the invitation to the FBI. Date, time, location and circumstances were of Hannibal Lecter's choosing. Whether or not he would survive the situation was in Clarice's hands, or more specifically, Logan Marley's hands.<p>

Hannibal Lecter dropped a note to Clint Pearsall. Well, he didn't so much as drop it. Hannibal pinned it to the jacket of Pearsall's daughter as she got off the bus at school. She never even saw him. Pearsall's wife received the letter and called him, crying as she read it over the phone.

_Deputy Director Pearsall,_

_Your daughter is a very lovely and trusting young lady. Please thank her for carrying my invitation to you. No doubt you're wondering at which point during her day did I have direct access to her. Though I could have approached many times, I chose a time and place where my activities would be recorded and as such could not be misconstrued. Though I did plant the note on her person, rest assured that at no point did I behave in an inappropriate fashion. I do not harm innocents, and as such, your daughter was never in any danger._

_You may see the entirety of the exchange by accessing the recordings from the school's security system. There is a camera mounted on her school directed at the busing area. If you watch closely, you will see that I attached the note to her clothing as she boarded the bus to return home. Yes, I allowed her to return to you. I am not the monster you assume me to be._

_The purpose of this correspondence is to inform you that I will present myself for surrender at the Fairfield Terminals tomorrow at 4:30 p.m. where I will offer myself to your custody freely and willingly. As for the R.S.V.P., you need not confirm. I'll accept your regrets only. You will soon learn that I too, have regrets, thus the impetus for my submission to your authority. A recent personal association has resolved in a manner that has left me less than satisfied. I imagine the thumbprint provided will not only confirm my identity but will also offer a topic of conversation that may be discussed further in person. Know that I look forward to this final resolution,_

_Until then, I remain,_

_Sincerely,_

_Hannibal Lecter, M.D._

Pearsall's wife found the note upon meeting her daughter at the school bus.

The exterior of the envelope was scrolled with Hannibal's immaculate copperplate. It read simply:

_To the attention of Deputy Director Pearsall with regards from Hannibal Lecter, M.D._

The letter was picked up immediately, arriving on the fly at Quantico within fifteen minutes of Mrs. Pearsall's phone call. Lloyd Bowman and Clint Pearsall went over every inch of the letter. Hannibal did not attempt to remove the partial thumbprint, impressed on the linen paper in what appeared to be blood. There was a victim. No doubt about it.

Lecter was identified by the security camera footage. He made a gesture with his left in the direction of the camera, the topic of a heated discussion in Pearsall's office between Pearsall and Lloyd Bowman as they reviewed the video footage from the school.

Pearsall was irate. "What the hell is that about? Is Lecter a heavy metal fan? He's throwing the goddamned horns up!"

Bowman understood the reference immediately.

"He isn't throwing the horns up because of his taste in music. Hannibal Lecter is half-Lithuanian and half-Italian. His mother was a noblewoman from the House of Visconti in Milan. That's the Mano Cornuta- it's a gesture used to either ward off evil or to curse someone."

"So he's cursing someone?" Pearsall questioned.

Bowman's opinion wasn't comforting. "He's the only one who can answer that. It's really just superstition but I wouldn't want him pointing that in my direction."

Pearsall was obviously highly agitated. He wasn't about to have Hannibal taken alive. Hannibal had reached his little girl once. If he was left alive he could get to her again, maybe even kill the whole family. No, Hannibal spoke of a final solution and Clint Pearsall was going to make sure of it.

"He could have killed my daughter."

Bowman was confused by Pearsall's anger. He watched the footage over and over again and didn't see any threat to the girl. To Lloyd, as to Hannibal, she was simply a courier.

"If he wanted her dead…she would be dead. He was sending you a message and that's all the use she was to him. We need to find out why he is surrendering and why he's choosing to do so tomorrow."

"We are talking about my daughter! I don't give a good goddamned what message he wants to send me. I'm going to be sending him a message too, from the muzzle of a gun! He told us where and he told us when, I don't give a shit why!"

* * *

><p>Hannibal spent the afternoon shopping and preparing the meal. All was at the ready. Clarice had been packed for days and Hannibal had already shipped the majority of their necessities to their next location.<p>

Clarice opened the door to the duplex and called out. "Honey, we're home."

Logan was shocked as Hannibal Lecter appeared in the hallway from the kitchen to welcome them. He approached Clarice and kissed her.

"Hello, Clarice."

Clarice returned the kiss and stepped aside to begin the introductions.

"Hannibal, allow me to introduce my colleague, Logan Marley. Logan…Hannibal Lecter, M.D."

Hannibal extended his hand and shook Logan's genially.

"I've heard quite a lot about you, Logan. It truly is a pleasure to finally meet you."

Logan was practically gushing at the thought that Hannibal knew he existed. He continued to grip Hannibal's hand, shaking vigorously.

"The pleasure is mine, Sir."

Watching Logan practically pulling Hannibal's arm off as he continued to shake his hand excitedly, Clarice grabbed Logan's wrist, interrupting the extended greeting.

"Relax, Logan, you don't have to work so hard." Turning to Hannibal, Clarice ran a hand up and down his arm. It was an intimate touch, not wasted on Logan.

Wanting to allow the men some time to talk privately, she requested, "I'd like to go upstairs and freshen up, H. Would you mind entertaining our guest for a few minutes?"

Understanding the offer, Hannibal kissed her cheek and assured.

"It would be my pleasure, my Love."

As Clarice excused herself, more to allow Hannibal the opportunity to talk to Logan than anything else, Logan gave her an enthusiastic thumbs-up as she ascended the stairs.

"I think we would be far more comfortable waiting in the living room than standing in the foyer. Please, join me."

Logan followed, bouncing behind Hannibal like a puppy nipping at his master's heels, obediently sitting where Hannibal directed. Lecter then excused himself and returned with a bottle of wine and three glasses. He filled two, handed one to Logan, taking the other for himself. He extended his glass.

"To your continued health, Logan."

Logan straightened his back, attempting to mimic Hannibal's dignified bearing and manner.

"To your health as well, Dr. Lecter."

Waving his hand, Hannibal pleasantly dismissed Logan's formality.

"Please, there is no need to be formal. You are among friends, Logan. Please, call me Hannibal."

"Oh…okay…Hannibal." Logan beamed.

Sitting in a large armchair, Hannibal leisurely sipped his wine as if he didn't have a life and death topic to discuss.

"Clarice speaks of you often. She is rather fond of you, you know. Initially, I was actually quite jealous."

"No…it's not like that. I mean, she's great, but she doesn't look at other guys. She's totally in love with you! You picked a heck of a woman, Sir. I really wish you the best…I mean that. She deserves to be happy. They make it really hard for her at the Bureau."

"She is the light of my life. I live to please her and am working very hard to remedy that situation. Clarice informed me that the Bureau has invited you to the party I have arranged. Will you be attending?"

Logan looked into Hannibal's eyes, and finding the scrutiny too intense, momentarily looked away. He took a deep breath, trying to decide how to answer. When he settled on a response, he gathered his confidence and met Hannibal's gaze.

"I…I will… unless…unless you don't want me there."

"No, I would never ask you to shirk your professional duties. Clarice trusts you, therefore by extension, I trust you. If I am to be placed within the reticle, I would prefer it be you at the other end."

Logan's voice was grim.

"They'll expect me to take the shot and I can't use blanks because there's no way in hell they'll pass forensics."

"No, I would never expect you to compromise your employment in that fashion."

Hannibal smiled as he swirled the wine within the bowl of the glass, coating the inside as he dipped his nose within, inhaling. He was the picture of relaxation and contentment as he sipped the wine and assessed Logan's demeanor.

Logan watched him for any sign of anger or worry. Hannibal was so neutral the younger man didn't know what to make of it. He listened carefully as Hannibal explained.

"In fact, Logan, expect you to take the shot as well, and am relying on the fact that you will not miss your mark. If I am indeed meant to take a sniper's round to my person, I would prefer to choose its placement, torso rather than head if you are inclined to cooperate. Is that something you would consider?"

Logan realized what he was being asked to do. Suddenly, his eyes meeting Hannibal's, he smiled widely.

"Absolutely."

_**Until the next chapter, my friends!**_

_**LH**_


	11. Chapter 11

**HANNIBAL'S SOUL**

Clarice stood at the top of the staircase, showered and dressed for dinner in a basic black dress. Hannibal and Logan stopped their conversation leaned over from their positions in the living room, to watch her descend. Logan was speechless.

Spellbound, Hannibal sighed.

"Breathtaking, my Love… positively breathtaking."

Smoothing her hands over her hips, she smiled.

"Thank you, handsome…what's for dinner?"

Hannibal stood from his seat, reaching for Clarice's hand as he pronounced, "Beef tonight, Clarice. Pepper encrusted filet mignon- Kobe of course, asparagus tips, a parmesan mushroom risotto topped with crisped spinach and enoki."

Her arms now linked with Hannibal's, Clarice gestured for Logan to precede them into the dining room.

"Sounds wonderful, doesn't it, Logan?"

Leaping to his feet, the rookie agent scrambled to head the procession to the dining room. Logan was thrilled to be accepted by his idol, his voice echoing his excitement as he sat where Hannibal directed and bubbled enthusiastically, "Dude…he had me at beef!"

* * *

><p>Hannibal was the perfect host, serving and clearing each course while Clarice entertained Logan, not that he needed entertaining. Merely being in Hannibal's presence was entertainment enough for Logan. Hannibal was everything Logan hoped he would be and more. When it came to his part in the plan, Logan was a more than enthusiastic participant.<p>

"Yeah, you were right, you'd definitely need a level four rating…anything less wouldn't be survivable. If it were me, based on the weapon, I'd use that trauma shield too."

Having considered that thought, Hannibal nodded as he replied, "Yes, I suppose that would probably be prudent."

Listening to the preparations, Clarice joined, "I don't like it, H…I don't trust…"

Logan interrupted, "You don't trust what? _Me_?"

Clarice hedged, "No, of course not Logan. I trust you implicitly or you wouldn't be here. I mean, Ardelia doesn't even know Hannibal's here and she lives right next door."

"Dee doesn't know? Wow, I feel really honored, Clarice, really. Where is Dee tonight, anyway? I didn't see her car when we pulled up."

"She's got a date with some gorilla from the gym. She likes 'um big and dumb."

Logan shook his head, his disappointment obvious.

"Heck, I was hoping she kinda liked me. I mean we talk once in a while at the gym. If what you say's true, I'm exactly her type, just not the dumb part."

Clarice turned her back for a moment, looking at Hannibal, trying not to laugh. Hannibal simply smiled.

Logan wasn't the brightest guy in the world, but he knew weapons and he was the best marksman she had ever seen. Clarice had to trust his knowledge because Hannibal was betting his life that Logan's information was accurate.

Her smile disappeared. Turning to Hannibal, Clarice worried, "Equipment failures happen, H. I don't know if I'm willing to risk everything on something we can't test. We're together and that's really all that counts. I can't lose you now."

Standing, Hannibal moved around the table and bent to his knee in front of Clarice.

He reached for her face, gently cradling it, his voice tender as he comforted, "I cannot hide in your duplex forever, Clarice. This is the only way we can be together without looking over our shoulders. I hope you'll agree, but I'll not force the issue. Tell me what you need from me and that is what I shall do, but I truly believe this is the best decision for our future. For you, I would risk all, to have all, my Love."

Bowing her head, she touched her forehead to his and returned, "I know, H…I know."

* * *

><p>As the group enjoyed their meal, there was a knock at the shared door of Clarice and Ardelia's duplex.<p>

Clarice's eyes flashed panic.

"Her date only started on hour ago. There must be a problem."

Hannibal wasn't flustered. He had in fact assumed Ardelia would have found them out months ago. If she happened in, so be it. He wasn't concerned either way.

"Tend to your friend, Clarice. Logan and I will be fine. If you have need of me, do not hesitate."

Clarice moved to the kitchen where their living spaces joined and partially opened the door.

"What's up Dee? What happened to your date?"

Ardelia was almost in hysterics. She pulled Clarice through the opening and hugged her friend.

"Clarice!"

Clarice winced when she noticed Ardelia's eye was beginning to swell.

"Who did this to you?"

"Gym boy elbowed my eye when we were sitting together on the couch; said it was an accident, but I think it's because he's pissed I don't want to sleep with him. I mean, we've only been out twice, so, I told him I wasn't ready and he got really aggressive. Damn juicehead! I don't care how hot he is, I want him out and just he won't go."

"He didn't actually try to rape you, did he?"

"No…but Mr. Romance thinks as long as he doesn't leave, he's got a shot. He's inside and he thinks I'm in the bathroom. I know you have company…I'm sorry…I don't want to play the whole 'I'm an FBI agent so get the fuck out or I'll get my gun' routine. I saw Logan's car and I hate to screw up your date but I thought he could come over and play the jealous ex or something to run the idiot off for me."

"Logan is here but I'm not_ dating _him…I've got a better idea but you have to promise not to overreact."

"Okay, whatever, I promise."

Clarice leaned past the door to see Hannibal standing silently, already poised to assist.

"I heard the word _rape_, Clarice. Do you have need of me, my Love?"

"Yes, H."

Ardelia heard the voice and a shiver ran up her spine. "_H?_ Clarice, who the _hell_ are you talking to?"

Clarice clutched the door, still worried whether or not she was doing the right thing.

"I'm talking to my...well for lack of a better word… my fiancé..."

_They don't have a name for what he is._

…And believe me when I say he can help you more than Logan can."

Taking a deep breath, Clarice pushed the door open, revealing Hannibal Lecter to Ardelia Mapp.

"H, this is my friend, Ardelia Mapp, Ardelia…Hannibal Lecter."

Hannibal wasted no time.

"It is my pleasure, Miss Mapp. If you will please excuse me for my haste, violence to women is abhorrent to me. Where is the disrespectful whelp? It would be my honor to escort him to the exit in your stead."

In shock, her mouth agape she pointed a thumb over her shoulder.

Seeing Ardelia was speechless, Clarice explained, "You'll know where to go, H. Dee's side of the duplex mirrors mine. He's in the living room."

Hannibal strode confidently past Clarice and Ardelia.

"I'll be but a moment. There is plenty of food in the kitchen. Please attend to your friend's needs and place an icepack on her eye. I am certain after a word from me, her suitor will be more than happy to take his leave of this place. Miss Mapp? With your permission?"

Ardelia, still shocked, mumbled, "Umm…yes…thank you, Dr. Lecter."

Reaching for Hannibal's elbow, Clarice turned him toward her, extending her other hand.

"H…the harpy."

Confused by the request, Hannibal questioned, "Clarice?"

She presented her hand again, making the demand adamantly, "_The harpy_, H."

Obediently reaching into his sleeve, he removed the weapon and handed it to Clarice.

"For safe keeping, my Love. I am certain I'll not need it."

Ardelia, still not remotely comfortable with Hannibal, warned, "Doctor Lecter, Josh is a big guy."

A wry grin stretched across Hannibal's features.

"Not to worry, Ms. Mapp. I shall cut him down to size, figuratively speaking, of course."

Hannibal lowered his head, steely eyed, and in full Predator mode, slipping past the two women to enter Ardelia's duplex.

Absolutely stunned, Ardelia turned to Clarice.

"He calls you _my Love_? Jesus… Clarice…you're going to _marry Hannibal Lecter_?"

Clarice walked Ardelia into the kitchen and began filling a plate. She continued to speak as she escorted her friend to the dining room.

"It's a long story. You've known how I felt about him; what I didn't tell you was that he feels the same about me."

Logan looked up and waved a forkful of food at Ardelia.

"Hah! By that look on your face I can see you've met my buddy! He's awesome isn't he?"

Ignoring Logan, Ardelia sat staring at the plate of food prepared by Hannibal Lecter, incredulous as she continued, "And he gave you his _harpy_? This is some Twilight Zone shit, Clarice. I don't know how comfortable I am with him living next door."

Unaffected by Ardelia's snub, Logan continued to plead Hannibal's case.

"Yeah, but from what I just heard, he did come in pretty handy tonight. You just set him on that poor bastard boyfriend of yours like a pit bull."

"Shut the hell up, Logan. He's _not_ my boyfriend."

Logan smiled.

"Well, that's good to know."

Turning to Clarice, Ardelia continued, "I can't believe this…how long has he been here with you?"

Clarice took her seat, explaining to her stunned friend almost apologetically, "The last two months. But don't to worry, Dee. This is my last night here. If all goes as planned I'll be leaving the country with Hannibal tomorrow."

"Is that why Logan is here? Is he going to help?"

"Hell yeah, that's why I'm here! The big guy needed some advice about ballistics. You know how much I know about that. Of course I was going to help."

Clarice explained, "That wasn't my initial intention but Hannibal was talking to him about it earlier. I just thought it would be some harmless fun for Logan. You know what a Lecter freak he is."

"Yup…and now that I've met him, I freaking love the guy!"

Ardelia began to relax, breathing deeply as she stared at her plate.

Logan was adding heaping scoops of food to his plate, eating and smiling. "You haven't even _tasted_ the food yet. It's unbelievable!"

Rolling her eyes, Ardelia looked over at Clarice with a skeptical stare.

Smiling, Clarice put another piece of steak in her mouth and teased, "Don't worry, Dee. I swear to god it's not human- it's beef."

Ardelia sat quietly and began to eat. Smiling widely as she tasted the steak, she joked with Clarice in return, "Hell, I don't blame you, girl…for food like this, _I'd_ marry him."

Logan nodded enthusiastically.

"He's a fucking great cook isn't he? For steak like this…I'd go gay for him, I swear!"

With that Hannibal entered the dining room, startling Clarice and her friends with the silence of his approach.

"Miss Mapp, your young gentleman bids you to please forgive him. He left in a bit of a hurry. It is highly unlikely that you will be seeing him again."

He walked over to Clarice and without a word, she reached into her pocket and handed him his harpy. Smiling, Hannibal slipped it into his sleeve, put an arm around her and kissed her.

"No casualties as promised, my Love."

Clarice hugged him. "Thanks H."

"Dr. Lecter. Thank you, it was kind of you to help me."

Hannibal took his seat, placed his napkin on his lap and continued his meal.

"Clarice values your friendship above all others, Miss Mapp, therefore, I am forever at your disposal."

Enjoying the dinner, and relaxing somewhat in Hannibal's presence she questioned.

"Did he give you much trouble, Doctor?"

Hannibal waved a hand, dismissing the thought.

"Not at all, as you are aware my reputation precedes me. I merely had to introduce myself and suggest to the young man in question that his health was contingent upon his silence and his continued distance from this home. He was quite agreeable. Not very chivalrous I'm afraid, he failed to inquire as to your health before he left. Needless to say, he will have quite the tale to tell tomorrow evening when he sees the news."

Ardelia was beginning to understand what Clarice saw in Hannibal. He was charming and charismatic. He was a protector. He was Power Incarnate.

Ardelia set down her fork and made eye contact with Hannibal, his maroon eyes glimmering with curiosity as she spoke.

"May I ask you a personal question, Dr. Lecter?"

His head inclined slightly, considering the intention behind the question as he allowed, "Yes, of course you may."

Leaning forward as if to illustrate the serious nature of the question, she dared to ask, "Do you love Clarice? Are you _really_ in love with her?"

Not insulted at all by the question, he returned, "I would give my life for her. We are not _in_ love. We _are_ Love."

Ardelia turned to her friend, equally concerned as she pursued, "Clarice? You feel the same about him?"

"You know how I feel Ardelia. We've talked about this so many times before…I love him more than I have ever loved anything…ever. I can't face the rest of my life without him."

Convinced, Ardelia joined wholeheartedly, "Okay, I'm in. What's the plan?"

**Until the next chapter, my friends!  
>LH<strong>


	12. Chapter 12

**HER PROTECTOR…HIS PASSION**

Hannibal had followed a meticulous schedule, withdrawing his blood and Clarice's for several weeks. He kept it safely refrigerated and stored, careful to choose containers that would preserve the integrity of the serum and render it free of contaminates. With a forty-five day shelf life under the storage circumstances available, he had finally collected enough to execute his plan.

Quite the macabre forensic artist, the fountains and sprays of their collective blood, the absolutely gory scene Hannibal left in Clarice's bedroom would have made even the most seasoned veterans wince. And although Clarice suggested it, Hannibal refused to leave evidence behind of their sexual congress; it seemed vulgar.

Hannibal understood her reasoning. It would stand to reason that, had he forced or coerced a sexual encounter, as would be the story, and were interrupted, there would be evidence.

Wanting to offer an alternative that would seem plausible, Hannibal suggested, "If I strip the bed down to the mattress and launder the sheets, they will assume I was attempting to destroy evidence of a sexual act."

Clarice stood beside him, considering the idea. She finally nodded, voicing her assent.

"Okay, H, that's fair."

Standing beside the bed, now soaked in blood, with a final flourish, Hannibal took a butcher's cleaver he'd removed from the block in the kitchen and drove it deep into the headboard of Clarice Starling's bed.

Leaning against Hannibal's shoulder, Clarice appeared amazed at the carnage.

"Christ, H, talk about an orgy of evidence! How much blood did you use?"

Wrapping his right arm around her body and gripping the cap of her shoulder, Hannibal pulled Clarice close and proclaimed with pride, "Two liters…in various parts of the duplex, though most of it is soaking into the mattress as we speak. When the responding officers see the cleaver in the headboard, not to mention the hooking of my Harpy on the mattress, it will be obvious to any and all that you died an absolutely horrific death at my hands, my Love."

Slipping her arm around his body and hooking her thumb in a belt hoop of his trousers, she snuggled against him, not at all put off by the staged slaughter.

"Remind me, H, how much blood is in the human body?"

Turning his body toward hers to close the embrace with his left arm, Hannibal kissed the top of her head. One would think, from the pair's interaction, the couple might be standing on a beach, admiring the setting sun rather than venerating a mattress saturated with blood.

"The average human body contains approximately 5 liters. The amount of blood loss displayed here would not be survivable without immediate medical attention. They will conclude that you are dead and that I have removed your body for disposal. Now, we must make the circumstantial evidence support that fact."

The couple's combined expertise proving incredibly well suited to the ghoulish task, they were diligent to detail. Clarice allowed Hannibal to drag her, wiping wide swaths of her blood across the floor, hair being tugged, follicles in tack as he pulled her by her legs between rooms so the evidence would support the supposition that he removed her body from the home for disposal. She grasped for furniture upending items along the way, leaving grisly handprints and broken glass to illustrate a life-ending struggle.

Ardelia entered the duplex to check on their progress. Clarice stood, covered in her own blood beside her best friend as the trio surveyed the room. Ardelia wrinkled her nose, disgusted with the sight as she strongly suggested.

"Great job, guys, it's eerily authentic, truly a horrific sight."

Hannibal smiled at his handiwork.

"Yes, it is quite impressive. Thank you, Miss Mapp."

"Don't mention it, Doc. I always give credit where credit's due." Ardelia turned to her friend.

"Hey, Clarice, please use my shower sooner rather than later. That blood is freaking me out totally."

Releasing her husband, Clarice turned and headed toward the door. "Okay, I'll take a quick shower and be back in a few. And, Dee when all this is over and everything calms down we will see each other…I promise."

"Yeah, I know we will, now go. Wash that off before I toss my cookies."

Hannibal held out a hand. "Clarice…before you shower."

Clarice was confused as to why he might call her back, an afterthought it seemed, but with a hint of importance, she thought.

She walked over to Hannibal, questioning, "Something wrong, H?"

Hannibal ran his hands up and down the length of her arm, trilling his fingers along her flesh. The moment his fingertips lost contact with her body, he flicked his wrist quickly, producing his harpy.

"No, not as such. Forgive me, my Love, I don't mean to be improper, however it would be prudent to leave your clothing in a state as to appear that I removed them in a hasty, and less than gentlemanly fashion."

He opened his harpy and sliced her shirt and bra, releasing her breasts. She covered herself, not from modesty but necessity, forced to hold the fabric together, lest it fall to the floor. With his maroon eyes flashing his approval, he slipped the blade between her stomach and her jeans and using her weight as a counterbalance, ripped the blade through the fabric, hacking her jeans apart.

Barely able to hold the shreds of clothing together, Clarice questioned good-humoredly, "Well, here's hoping I can make it all the way to Ardelia's shower before the clothing falls to the floor. Where should I leave them?"

"Bring them to me and I'll toss them on the arm chair in your bedroom. It will look as though you rebuffed my advances, consequently, I raped and murdered you, preferably in that order, though I'm sure that will be the cause of much debate."

Laughing at his insinuation of necrophilia, Clarice proclaimed, "Whatever floats your boat. You just remember when this is all over that you owe me a new outfit, H."

Smiling wryly as he replaced his harpy within his sleeve, Hannibal assured, "I will be thrilled to indulge you when we reach our destination, my Love."

* * *

><p>As part of the plan and contrary to every instinct she possessed, Ardelia allowed Hannibal Lecter to bind her hands and feet. She unintentionally flinched at the sight of his hands, slick, dripping with a mixture of Clarice's blood and his own and silently hoped he wouldn't perceive her discomfort.<p>

Sensing the spike in her stress hormones and visibly noticing her discomfort, Hannibal sought to calm his lover's friend.

"If at any point you are uncomfortable, please, do not hesitate to make me aware. I don't wish to make you any more uncomfortable than is necessary for the task."

The sticky serum making Hannibal's task slightly more difficult, he gingerly handled the thick length of rope careful not to cause Ardelia unnecessary distress, but making certain it would be obvious she could not have set herself free. Someone would have to extricate her.

"Is the binding tolerable, Miss Mapp?"

Ardelia shifted against the ropes. This close to Hannibal, she could see the scar on his hand where his duplicated middle finger had been removed. She could smell his cologne asnd was therefore certain he could smell her fear. She was alone with him, vulnerable.

Struggling to appear nonchalant, she assured, "No worries, I'm fine Dr. Lecter."

It was decided that Ardelia would call 911 at the pre-appointed time report that she surprised him in the bedroom as Hannibal Lecter killed Clarice Starling. Hannibal covered all the bases.

"Are you still able to access your cell phone?"

Ardelia reached for the back pocket of her jeans and found that she was easily able to slide the phone up from the pocket and readily access the keypad.

"Yup, I can operate it easily. I'll get them on speaker phone and call in the cavalry."

The moment he was certain the ropes were secure, Hannibal stood and stepped back, aware that his proximity caused her undue stress.

"The rope binding is secure. Is there anything I can do to make you more comfortable?"

Thinking that she shouldn't dare, but then, what the hell, it's not like he'd hurt her. Not with Clarice in the next room thinking he was marriage material. To hell with it, she wanted to know, so she'd ask.

"Would you answer a question for me, Doctor?"

"Yes, of course, Miss Mapp."

Disconcerting as it was, Ardelia forced herself to meet and hold his eyes. The swirling maroon with tiny pinpoints of light simmering, flying to the center of his soul, possessed her. Thinking she would be afraid, she was oddly comforted. The glowering orbs that burned above the cannibal's mask were not present here. Here, he was with Clarice. Here, he was simply, Hannibal.

"Dr. Lecter I want you to know that I'm going against everything I believe in because of what the Bureau has done to Clarice. I love her. She's family, so please, please, don't make me regret this. I need to see her happy and since she's only happy when she's with you… She means the world to me. You…you won't ever…hurt her, will you?"

Hannibal returned to a kneeling position, resting a soothing hand on Ardelia's shoulder.

His voice was soft, sincere, as he explained, "She means the world to you, but, she _is_ my world. Trust that I absolutely understand the sacrifice you are making for Clarice and you may rest assured I would not insult your efforts on our behalf. The arrangements I have made will insure that her life will be filled with joy, love and contentment."

Not good enough. She needed to hear it.

She pursued, "And you'll…take care of her?"

As if the question itself were abhorrent to him, he inquired with an edge of incredulity, "You are afraid I might harm her? _Physically?"_

The way he asked, as if it pained him to even consider the thought, Ardelia felt relieved. Still, he needed to say the words or she wouldn't be satisfied.

"Yeah…I'm afraid. I'm afraid you might get tired of her and either leave her, or hurt her. She'd never survive it if you did. She's been abandoned too much in her life. Betrayed by too many people who owed her better. If you ever hurt her…there's no place far enough that I wouldn't find you."

"While I'm sure you would pursue me to the ends of the earth on her behalf, that won't be necessary, Miss Mapp. Know that I will never hurt her and I will not leave her side until I draw my last breath. I make you that promise and when circumstances permit, as Clarice has promised…you will see her again, very soon."

He checked the ropes once more. "Are you experiencing any distress?"

Satisfied, Ardelia responded, "No, no distress. I'm doing well."

Hannibal stood and began moving around the room, finishing the preparations.

"I hope being alone with me does not cause you undue anxiety. Clarice has become so comfortable with me that she fails to consider others may experience…trepidation in my presence."

Ardelia shifted in her seat, watching the elegant line of Hannibal's body as he picked up and returned several objects, assuring his fingerprints would be readily available to investigators.

"Actually, I am pleased to have the opportunity to get to know you. You're not at all what I expected."

Lifting a picture frame holding a photo of Clarice and Ardelia on their graduation day from the FBI, Hannibal admired the photo. Returning it to the table, Hannibal angled his head slightly. It was obvious her comment intrigued him.

"I am curious…exactly what did you expect?"

"I expected you to be cold, maybe a little distant. I knew that you were polite and well mannered but you're much warmer than I thought you would be. You also have a sensitivity that's disarming. I never understood it before, but now I do. I know exactly why she's been in love with you for so long."

Hannibal turned to face Ardelia fully. This was a statement he needed explained.

"Why?"

_He's interested, now. He loves her or he wouldn't care about that comment._

"Because each of you has a quality the other is missing…something that had been taken from you. You each fill the lost, the absent parts…the needs of each other."

His eyebrows knitted tightly, his tongue touched the corner of his mouth briefly, as he considered the concept.

"What missing parts? What needs?"

"You are her protector and her passion…she is your redemption…your soul."

Without blinking, Hannibal stared ahead, the thought obviously striking a chord deep within. Ardelia wasn't certain, but believed she could see a brief quiver to his lip, though in the blink of an eye, it was gone.

"You are very perceptive, Miss Mapp."

"Please, Dr. Lecter, we are practically family. Call me Ardelia."

"Thank you, Ardelia, and of course, you may call me Hannibal."

* * *

><p>The moment Clarice returned from showering Hannibal divested her of the bloody clothing and bounded up the stairs to place the evidence.<p>

When upstairs and out of sight Hannibal used his mouth to suck and lick blood off the fabric. He also bit into it and dragged his teeth to mark it, knowing they would find traces of his saliva mixed with her blood.

The process had dual intentions for Hannibal. He certainly wanted to leave evidence but, as a bonus, he would be able to taste Clarice without being seen. Wanting his curiosity sated, he worried she might not understand.

Hannibal shuffled happily down the stairs, returning quickly to the living room. Seeing the sparkle in his eye and the uncharacteristic bounce to his step, Clarice considered the motivation behind the exuberance. She smiled widely as realization dawned.

_If I call him on it, will he evade it or will he admit it?_

Clarice, careful to remove any recrimination from her tone, questioned playfully, "H? Needed some private time did you?"

An eyebrow lifted. He was captivated by the question.

_My brilliant girl…do you know, I wonder?_

He chose to be direct.

"Yes, Clarice."

"I'm curious. How did I taste?"

He was taken aback…Unsure of how to answer.

_I know your nature and I'm not afraid._

Confessing fully, hoping she would accept the behavior and not be repulsed, he readily admitted, "You know me too well, my Love. Yes, I did indeed…indulge… and I must say, you are...Delicious."

A knock at the door, Barney had arrived to escort Clarice to her flight.

"Your ride to the airport has arrived, my Love."

She reached for Hannibal, grasping at his shoulders.

"Let me stay until you can leave. I'm afraid something might go wrong."

"My Love, if something does go wrong, I will be much more capable of handling it if you are not with me. It is likely that my judgment would be clouded if you were in danger. It would be safer for the two of us if you would travel ahead and meet me at our connection. I'll be along presently. I promise."

Hannibal opened the door and Barney stepped inside.

"Welcome, Barney. Thank you for escorting my Love. He safety, as you know, is paramount."

Barney understood that time was a concern. "Not at all, Doctor, it would be best if Clarice were on time…it wouldn't be a good idea to draw attention by being late through the security checkpoint."

"Yes, thank you, Barney. Clarice will be with you momentarily."

Barney lifted Clarice's luggage. "You say your goodbyes. I'll be in the car, and Doctor Lecter, don't worry. I'll make sure she is safe on board and the plane is in the air before I leave."

"Thank you, Barney."

After closing the door Hannibal turned his attention to Clarice. Seeing her eyes well and spill over, he embraced her. This was the second time in their short relationship that she was moved to tears for him. He was touched immeasurably never having dared to hope that during his lifetime so much as a single tear would ever be shed for him.

Ardelia, although bound, averted her eyes to afford them some small measure of privacy.

"Please Clarice…no tears…please. We will be together soon." He kissed her tenderly, passionately, concerned though he would never admit, that it could be their last embrace.

Pushing Clarice through the egress as Barney wrapped and arm around her shoulder, pulling her gently from the home, Hannibal Lecter closed both the door to the duplex and to his heart. He could not have his thoughts with Clarice. His mind, as the bullets flew, would have to be focused.

* * *

><p>Logan took his position and waited. Lecter told him exactly what time he would exit his boat and appear on the dock, just as he outlined in the note to Pearsall. Logan would not shirk his duty. He would be firing a live round dead center on Hannibal Lecter's chest. Logan was terrified both that he might miss his mark and that he might hit it.<p>

Pearsall, Noonan and dozens of agents flooded the area where Hannibal Lecter was to appear. Still covered in Clarice's blood, Hannibal Lecter stepped from a small boat at the designated time on the appointed pier directly on the waterfront. He called out to Pearsall.

"Agent Pearsall I am so glad my invitation for you to join me arrived safely. How is your lovely daughter? She remains ever in my thoughts."

Seeing Lecter covered in blood, terrified that Hannibal referenced his daughter, Pearsall demanded, "Who did you kill, Doctor Lecter? Who was your victim?"

Worried it might be a member of his own family, Pearsall needed to know whose blood it was before they took Lecter down. He paced at his vantage point, terrified.

Logan shouted into his wire. "I've got him! Do you want me to take the shot?"

Pearsall barked his response, his voice cracked with worry, "No, stand down! Stand down! He's covered in blood! Someone get my wife on the line! I want to know where she is and where my kids are before we take this monster out!"

"Why are you covered in blood, Dr. Lecter? Who did you kill?" Noonan joined.

"No one of any significance to any of you. She was, however, quite important to me. Unfortunately, we had a bit of a lover's quarrel and she did not survive our…spat. I am quite overcome…distraught, really. I had imagined…well, it doesn't matter what I imagined as she was of a different mind. Facing the remainder of my life without her…I cannot…"

"Who was your victim, Dr. Lecter? Where is the body?"

"I loved her too much to have you dissect her. I interred her body with all the dignity it was within my power to provide. You will never find her. You will never have her. I made certain of that."

An agent ran up to Pearsall, grabbing his arm, screaming frantically, "Agent Ardelia Mapp just called in. She's totally freaking out. She walked in on them…in the bedroom. She saw the whole thing. Lecter tied her up in the living room so he could finish… It's Starling, Clint. He killed Clarice."

Pearsall didn't hesitate. "Marley, are you still sighted in? Is the target clear?"

"Yup…just give the word."

Pearsall swallowed hard and ordered.

"You're clear…Take the shot."

**Until the next chapter, my friends!  
>LH<strong>


	13. Chapter 13

**This is the final chapter of this fic, so if you enjoyed it, drop me a review and let me know! Thanks for coming along for the ride! LH**

**THE DEATH OF HANNIBAL LECTER**

Hannibal relaxed his body and slowly allowed his head to drop back, mouth slightly open. Looking up toward the sky, the clear blue dotted with pillow-like clouds, he concentrated on the late afternoon sun warming his face. Knowing what was about to happen, and not knowing the outcome, trust- an exceptionally difficult concept for Hannibal, was his only option. Taking a deep, protracted breath and releasing it slowly, he opened his arms and extended them widely, clearly exposing his torso. Though it would seem to the other onlookers as no more than a remorseful cry of passion, Hannibal signaled his readiness to Logan by howling his torment with one anguished word.

_"Claarrriicce!"_

_I hope you prepared well, Hannibal._

Logan drew in a long breath, eased it out and squeezed gently on the trigger sending a round directly to the center of his hero Hannibal Lecter's chest. Peering through his scope, Logan saw the blood explode from the impact of the round and gasped at the power of the contact. Normally, Logan had no emotional investment to his target. They were just that, targets. Not the same with Hannibal. Logan lowered his weapon knowing the wait would be long. He wouldn't know for hours whether or not the shot killed his friend.

Hannibal was thrown violently from his feet launching his body off the dock, sending him crashing, unprotected into the water.

"Jesus, did you see how he spread his arms out. It was like a goddamned self-crucifixion!" Pearsall was elated that he was able to clearly witness Hannibal's chest explode in a shower of blood from the impact of the sniper round. "That was fucking poetic…absolutely fucking poetic!"

Noonan shook his head in obvious disapproval.

"I know you think he screwed with your family, but let's be professional about this, Clint. Looks like he killed Clarice and he couldn't live with it so we'll call it suicide by sniper. Okay, get a chopper down here to help out. It can hover over the site and see if the body bobs up to the surface. No way he survived that shot so, so lets get a dive team in the water and try and get a quick hold on that body. We've got to secure it sometime today. I don't want a grey-faced Hannibal Lecter floating up along the coast washing up somewhere along the shoreline in a week or two. Last thing I want to see on the six o'clock news are a couple of morbid teenagers poking his bloated corpse with a stick."

Approximately fifteen minutes from the time Hannibal's body hit the water choppers were dispatched. There was no urgency to the directive as the focus was not an active search, but body recovery. Soon, they were hovering, searching the surface of the water hoping to guide the movement of the dive team. Pearsall stood, unmoving, scanning the surface of the water with binoculars the entire time.

Several minutes passed, still Hannibal Lecter's body did not surface. Pearsall was thrilled.

Hannibal Lecter was dead.

* * *

><p>The struggle to remove almost eighty pounds of Kevlar with SAPI plate inserts and trauma shield all while remaining underwater would be a herculean effort even for the youngest most fit of men. Straining to grip the underpinnings of the dock, moving slowly not to draw attention of the FBI investigators just a few feet above.<p>

_I'm getting too old for this._

Hannibal anchored himself quickly to the pier beneath the surface with a polyethylene gear sling. The equipment he was removing he attached to his waist with a series of quick draws. All of the equipment would have to be removed without disturbing the surface of the water above and no evidence of his survival could be left behind. He would have scant minutes, as he pulled off the equipment careful not to let it drop, before divers would take to the water to search for his body. As such, he had to move cautiously but with all due haste taking all evidence of his survival with him.

Affixed just under the pier he reached for the tiny portable breathing apparatus placed earlier in the day put it to his mouth and secured his air supply. All gear stowed in a mesh bag, Hannibal released his attachment to the pier and began to move quickly under water. Puncturing a bag of his blood, allowing it to pour forth slowly, he waited for a moment to permit the serum to cloud the water above him. Swimming quickly beneath the surface within minutes Hannibal soon reached the predetermined exit. Hannibal had painstakingly surveyed the area, careful to find a point of egress along this industrial area where there were no surveillance cameras or security personnel. Hannibal was relieved as he cautiously broke the water's surface to see Barney, as planned, patiently waiting inside a van with the back door fully open, inviting.

Exhausted, dragging his own weight even as he lifted the sodden bag from the water, Hannibal climbed. His arms ached fully spent as he tugged the rope, unfurling the ladder and dragged his body up each rung of the rolled ladder he had so carefully placed three full hours before sunrise.

Running from the side of the pier, his exit point shielded by several large metal shipping containers, Hannibal climbed into the back of the van, unseen. Still breathless from the weight of the equipment and the exertion of the event, Hannibal dropped the bag on the floor of the van and panted, "Is…Clarice…safe?"

Starting the ignition and engaging the gearshift Barney spoke as he drove, not wasting any time exiting the area. He didn't want to chance being seen by a helicopter or caught up in an FBI checkpoint. Thankfully, checkpoints aren't set up for dead bodies so a full alert wasn't activated. All of the activity now centered two hundred yards down the pier as Pearsall waited voraciously for Hannibal's body to be recovered.

"Yes Sir. Her plane took off without incident. Your bags are just behind my seat, along with your identification. Do you have contact lenses with you? Your maroon irises are a dead giveaway."

"Yes, I packed them with my dry clothing."

Hannibal was stripping off the wet garments, toweling and quickly redressing. All of the clothing he removed, he placed within the mesh bag with the equipment. Barney had very detailed instructions on the proper disposal of the items. The clothing would be burned, the ashes scattered. The remaining equipment would be carefully wiped to remove any fingerprints, soaked in a bleach mixture to compromise any DNA, placed in a plastic barrel and filled with concrete. The barrel would be taken out on Barney's fishing boat, far into the Atlantic, and pushed overboard- never to be seen again. Barney didn't mind taking what he considered to be this small risk. Hannibal was loyal. Generous and loyal. Any deed done for him now, would be paid back ten-fold should Barney ever find himself in need of a man with Hannibal's unique skillset.

"Then we have everything you need. With luck, you will reach the airport in Chicago in plenty of time to meet Clarice for the connecting flight. How was the impact to your chest? I can run blood gases to sample for lung trauma, if you'd like."

Now dressed, Hannibal moved to the passenger seat of the van, climbing carefully over the luggage as he very gingerly took his place. In obvious pain, he rubbed his palm over his chest in wide circles, palpating the area to test the tenderness of the site. Seeing that it was indeed profoundly painful, the injury required a bit of compartmentalizing in order to overcome the discomfort.

"There is no need. Though the concussion was surprisingly powerful, the blow dealt knocked me immediately off my feet. As such, the impact was lessened immensely. I'm certain from the tenderness there will be extensive bruising, so the trauma shield was a prudent addition. Logan's information and participation proved invaluable."

Barney nodded, attending to the road as he constantly searched, ever aware.

"Yeah, well, you're not dead, so I guess that's true. Why did you chance taking a round to the chest? That level of impact could have stopped your heart. You could have used compressed gas cylinders to burst the blood packets and it would have appeared just as realistic. Blanks could've been used. Then you wouldn't have had to chance taking to the water with all of that heavy equipment. You must be one hell of a swimmer."

Preparing to travel to Clarice, Hannibal was busying himself placing his brown contact lenses, covering his distinctive irises. Blinking to assure correct placement, he responded casually, "If the shell casings were examined, which most assuredly they would be, blanks would not stand up to the forensics test. Additionally, inside information and Logan's participation aside, I couldn't assume there would be a single sniper. I might have taken that chance previous to my relationship, but no longer. Now that I have Clarice, I find my life is far more precious to me. Chancing a headshot from another shooter was all I was willing to risk."

Barney shifted his eyes from his driving duties, to Hannibal and back to the road. Something about the man was different, and yet, he was the same. There was still that simmering hint of danger, a serpent, coiled, ready to strike with an edginess that urged Barney watch his friend, if he could indeed be called that, in his periphery. It was disturbing how Hannibal spoke of the possibility of taking a bullet to the head flippantly, but disarming when he mentioned Clarice's name with a reverence in his voice Barney had never heard before. _That_ was the difference. Hannibal Lecter was in love and the thought of it was both alarming and awe-inspiring.

"You really do love her, don't you?" Barney dared.

Without thought, hesitation, or hint of discomfiture he responded, "With every last fiber of my being."

Though he meant no disrespect Barney smiled and chuckled a bit, imagining tiny Clarice taming this mighty beast.

Hearing the quiet laughter and noticing Barney's bemused grin, Hannibal responded, the reverence replaced with an acerbic tone as he questioned, "I am curious? Does the thought of my loving a woman worry or amuse you? Perhaps you find it entertaining to think of the monster claiming a bride. That is what the late Doctor Chilton called me, is it not? His monster? His prize possession?"

Sorry that his pleasure for Hannibal was misconstrued, Barney explained penitently, "Don't take it that way, Doctor Lecter. I'm…" Barney paused to focus his thoughts, speaking only when he was certain his opinion on the matter was clear. "…I'm, pleased. I always enjoyed our time together. You treated me with more respect and dignity than Chilton, or anyone else ever had. When you escaped, I was glad and when, after so many years, you called me that night after the incident with your hand. Believe me, I was happy to help out because no matter what you did, they mistreated you, and I was sorry to have any part in your torment."

Hannibal stared off into space, his eyes focusing on nothing in particular, as he surveyed the door in his memory palace holding back the thoughts of his incarceration. Here, there was no clear, bulletproof glass, no air holes drilled to let human voices in, but nothing else of them. No, this door was massive in its construction with imposing locks and substantial iron welds holding it in place. It was not a welcoming place, as Hannibal had no want to visit. The memories he had of Clarice were the only pleasant thoughts of that period of time and as such they were not housed here. No, he guarded those in a separate, holy place.

Shifting his eyes quickly to Hannibal, Barney recognized that briefly, the good doctor was transported to that time. Barney thought it best to remain quiet, but Hannibal shifted his thoughts and quickly broke the silence.

"Though it is kind of you to say so, I never considered you complicit in those acts, Barney. I recognized your intervention on my behalf, to the best of your abilities, and was then, as I am now, appreciative. You helped to make that which was unbearable, bearable."

"Well, I thrilled that chapter in your life is over, and I'm even more thrilled now because I think Clarice is really special. She'd always been kind to me, thoughtful, and I think the two of you are really well suited for each other. I'm glad for you, Doctor. Really glad."

"Thank you, Barney. I assure, Clarice will be well cared for, happy. I will devote my life to fulfilling her every desire."

"I know you will."

* * *

><p>Barney pulled into the airport using a side entrance designated for private flights. The helipad was located on the far end of the field away from not only the far busier runways but the prying eyes of excessive security. The pilot would have conducted the preliminaries as all of the medical paperwork had been previously submitted, therefore the assessment of Hannibal would be cursory.<p>

Renting the helicopter for medical transport was Barney's idea. Hannibal was able to cover his face with a surgical mask without raising suspicion thanks to the false documentation making it appear he was a patient traveling from the United States after undergoing cancer surgery and chemotherapy. His immune system compromised, he carried all of the necessary paperwork presenting symptoms of neutropenia. Hannibal's face covered, his distinctive eyes shielded, the good doctor was now virtually unrecognizable.

Barney, in full medical scrubs, stethoscope tucked into his pocket, flew with Hannibal to his connecting flight. Clarice met Hannibal's helicopter and played the concerned wife quite well, he thought.

"I've been so worried, how was your flight? How do you feel? Can you walk or would you like me to get a wheelchair?"

Hannibal didn't require much acting. His body was sore, making movement a challenge as Barney helped him from the aircraft.

"No, the wheelchair isn't necessary. Though I'm a bit worse for the wear, I survived the experience, my Love."

Clarice rushed to Hannibal and without thought, reached for him instinctually, hugging him tightly. Seeing Clarice rushing toward Hannibal, Barney reached an arm to interrupt.

Understanding how frightened she must have been, not wanting to deny Clarice the comfort of touching him, Hannibal stepped in front of Barney and allowed the contact without complaint.

Throwing her arms around his neck and pulling him close, the moment their torsos collided Hannibal flinched for just a moment. He regrouped quickly, gathering the woman he loved in his arms, ignoring his pain.

The moment his body twitched, though it was brief, Clarice realized her error. Loosening her grip, though her hands still reached around his body, she smoothed them tenderly across his strained shoulders and over his knotted back, comforting. She kissed the side of his face, whispering her apology in his ear, "I'm so sorry, H. I'll never forget all you've risked to be with me, today, and so many months ago on the Chesapeake. I'll spend my life proving to you that it was worth it."

"Holding you is the only proof I will ever need, Clarice. I told you, I would risk all, to have all."

Hannibal turned to Barney and extended his hand.

"My thanks for escorting me safely into the arms of the woman I love, my friend. Have a safe return journey. We will see you soon."

"You have a great trip, the two of you. Be happy."

The moment Hannibal released his friend's hand Clarice hugged Barney, squeezing his shoulders tightly.

"How can I ever thank you for all the years you watched over him keeping him safe, then, and now? You've been a godsend, Barney."

"You can thank me by not missing your flight. Don't worry. I'll see you soon."

Clarice kissed the side of the larger man's cheek before turning from Barney to Hannibal, slipping her left arm around his waist, with her right, she removed Hannibal's mask, tucked it away and nuzzled her face alongside his neck.

Hannibal's eyes fluttered closed for a moment, he kissed the top of his lover's head.

Nodding a final acknowledgement to his former caretaker, Hannibal gathered Clarice in his arms and with her close, disappeared quickly within the crowd.

* * *

><p>The security checkpoint at the airport was no trouble. Hannibal arranged for passports and documentation proving them to be Argentinian. Being that Italian is the second most spoken language in Argentina Hannibal was comfortable with the option. There was no question as to their citizenship as Hannibal had purchased three months prior, a soaring rustic villa at the foothills of the Andes Mountains in Patagonia.<p>

They landed in Buenos Aires and took a short flight the 1600 kilometers to their new home in San Martin de los Andes, the lush fishing village bordered by hillsides and surrounded by a protected nature preserve. Their home was set on Lake Lacar and bordered by the Lanin National Park.

Clarice gasped as they approached the large security gate preparing to access their compound. "My God…it's breathtaking! How much land?"

"We own approximately 40 acres but we are surrounded by nature preserves so there is little in the way of distraction. We shall have all the privacy we desire though the town is just a short drive. It is a beautiful European-style community, known for its pastry, teahouses and handmade gourmet chocolate. It is a little slice of heaven, my Love…just for you."

The home was two stories, constructed post and beam style hewn from gorgeous indigenous conifers. The interior was styled much like an aristocratic European hunting lodge, with rich deeply carved antiques, leather and silver. The ceilings and windows soared, giving expansive views of the lake on one side and the national forest on the other.

Remote controlled privacy shades scrolled up and down the length of each window, preserving their privacy when desired. The main floor had an open floor plan and contained a large family room just off the fully appointed kitchen that was open on the opposite side to an elegant dining area, a living room and a massive room that served the dual purpose of music room and private study. The second floor consisted of three large private suites, laundry facilities and the master bedroom suite. Hannibal walked Clarice in and out of each room, enjoying her reaction to the house that was now their home.

Overwhelmed, she repeated, "It's perfect…just perfect."

"It is a wonderful place to raise a family, my Love."

"Family?"

"In time perhaps. For now, we will enjoy one another, yes?"

Clarice placed a gentle kiss on his lips, answering enthusiastically as they approached the door to the master suite, "Hell, yes!"

Though it was excruciating, Hannibal lifted Clarice in his arms and carried her over the threshold of their bedroom, carefully holding her very low on his body. He set her gently on the bed and took his place beside her. Clarice rested her hand on Hannibal's chest, barely a whisper of contact still he flinched and quickly snatched her wrist, lifting it gently from his body.

"Please, my Love. It's rather tender."

Clarice very carefully opened his shirt, wincing the moment she saw the deep, weeping, purple hematoma still spreading across his chest.

Her eyes welled as she worried, "That's absolutely horrific. It must be agonizing."

"It hasn't been a comforting experience for me…after all, my Love, I died today."

Hannibal Lecter traced along Clarice's hand with just the tips of his finger, clearly remembering the first time his body made contact with hers.

"It is as thrilling to me now as it was the first time we touched." Hannibal whispered in her ear. "Welcome home, Clarice."

"_You_ are my Home, Hannibal...you always will be my Home."

"And you will always be my Love."

* * *

><p>Dr. and Mrs. Marco Aurelio Dante were married in a small Catholic Church in San Martin de Los Andes eight weeks later. Their wedding was attended by all of the local townspeople and their three closest friends, Barney Matthews, Ardelia Mapp and of course, Logan Marley.<p>

We leave them, for now, happy, together, in love, as of yet undiscovered, and content to be so. Their story, however, continues…

**Until, No More a Savage Life: Chapter Two, my friends,**

**LH**


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